Smug Bastard
by missadventurous
Summary: It's just smut, guys. The video at the end is on YouTube.
1. Chapter 1

_None of it's mine. She's not mine. He's definitely not mine or he'd be locked in my bedroom. Everything belongs to Charlaine Harris, who deals with things like plot and charachter development. I do not know what these things are. _

Sookie gasped sharply as her eyes snapped open. Another vivid, full-sensation Eric dream. This time they were in his office; his hand had slithered about 8 inches up her wispy knee-length skirt when she startled awake.

Bill had warned her about the effects of those few drops of Eric's blood but she hadn't expected the unbidden carnal thoughts to come on this soon or this relentlessly. She was glad Bill wasn't in bed with her this time, surely he had to know what was happening.

No, thank heavens, he was coffined-up, locked in the back room in downtime, prepared to shift into dayrest at sunrise and stay there through the day so that he could be in top shape for the full night of top-secret-special-can't-tell-Sookie errands he had to finish up. _Whatever_. Ugh...she shouldn't be annoyed with him. He'd done nothing wrong. She was just agitated. The real culprit was the tall, cocky, oft-smirking Viking in the room down the hall.

Just who the hell did he think he was? She didn't give a damn if he was Sheriff of Area 5 or Duke of County 27, he was (sort of) a friend and definitely a business associate and he'd lied right to her face. To get what he wanted. Because he knew she wouldn't have given it freely. There was a word for that.

_Fuck this_, she thought throwing the covers off, maybe she couldn't change what had been done but she could certainly give that self-assured ass a piece of her mind. And he would hear it, even if she had to shout through a door or fight off the usual unprovoked attempt to get handsy.

She hastily tied a silky robe over her short nightgown and stomped down the hall as the anger swirled in her head. Her resolve was solidifying and her indignation was building. She was almost shaking with it when she came to his door, which was ajar.

She laid her palm against it and pushed gently, heart pounding, wondering if she was about to encounter a Sheriff meeting or, worse, Eric _in flagrante delicto_. She didn't even want to know what kind of depraved shit he got into when he found himself with an aquiescent fangbanger or, if it was even possible, an equally perverted playmate.

Instead, when she stepped over the threshold she saw Eric, alone and shirtless, on the edge of his bed. She couldn't deny how arresting the effect was. He didn't look surprised to see her and she couldn't tell what he'd been doing before she came in.

There were so many points of entry into what she wanted to say to (scream at) him, that at first she said nothing, just glared at him, seething and breathing hard. He looked up expectantly and she felt all her outrage rise to the surface. At herself for being naive, at the new power he held over her, but mostly right at the relaxed, half naked masterpiece seated a ten feet away. After a few pregnant seconds, he leaned back lazily and began.

"Sook--"

"What the hell was that!?" she spat, cutting him off. "You selfish, entitled asshole! What were you thinking tonight? Did you expect that little stunt to endear you to me? I assumed we at least had some semblance of friendship! There are some things you can't just _take_ with deception! You can't _force_ yourself on someone who doesn't want you!"

He sat back and took it, listened with interest and let her rage herself out until she stopped.

Then, as though he were speaking to a child mid-temper-tantrum, he spoke factually.

"That was a blood bond. I was thinking that since I'd already taken the bullet, I could turn the opportunity to my advantage. I did not expect it to endear me to you, I expected it to tie me to you, which it did. Pleasant dreams tonight, Sookie?" he purred.

She rolled her eyes. "As for forcing myself on someone who doesn't want me," he enunciated the last part pointedly looking at her darkly, "is that really how you would truthfully describe it...?" he finished in a low growl.

She leveled her voice. "I would describe it as a business acquaintance taking advantage of me and betraying my trust."

He indicated himself; "um, _vampire_?" he reminded her.

"You lied to my face."

"I saw an opening and I took it. Your anger will fade, the bond will not." he said simply.

She threw up her hands exasperated but losing her edge, "Ugh! You're an insufferable rat bastard...and would you put a shirt on?!" She'd been distracted by seeing so much of him since she'd walked in, but it took her until now to get to that particular offense. It was hard to remain focused and furious while simultaneously confronted with such a broad and perfectly formed expanse of smooth, beautiful skin. The soft light in the room highlighted all the muscles underneath as he moved. It occurred to her that the lighting might not be a coincidence. Could he have felt her coming?

She wasn't proud of it, and she didn't show it, but she couldn't help but be drawn to such an ideal specimen of a man. He was breathtaking and he knew it. He radiated strength and dominance and a kind of effortless, natural confidence. She couldn't help it, she looked. His consummately distracting chest tapered into a narrow, solid waist, and the V of his hips dove into black drawstring pajama pants, probably the only thing he was wearing, knowing Eric.

He smirked at her. Of course he did. "Bothering you, lover?" She wished she could smack that smile right off his face, did he think this was some kind of victory? She sighed heavily. She would be getting exactly nowhere with this. And her feelings were taking a dangerous turn being so close to him.

She turned a fraction in the direction of the door before he said quietly, "Sookie, come here."

She looked back over her shoulder at him, unmoved.

"Come here," he repeated.

"I have nothing more to say to you."

"Come here."

"I hate you right now."

"Come here."

She hesitated briefly. This could be a really bad idea. She steeled her resolve and moved to stand in front of his seated form, just out of his reach. Planting her hands on her hips she looked down at him, though not by much, as if to say, _what_?

He leaned forward and pulled one of her hands off her hip and soothed it with both of his. It forced her to take a small step forward. "Is it really so terrible?" he said, low and soft.

She rolled her eyes with exaggeration to resist the sexual tone he always trying to set with her. But her body betrayed her intentions. A wave of pleasure rolled up her spine from the hand he was fondling and up to the back of her neck. He felt it and snickered very, very quietly.

"I can tell what you're feeling," he continued, "Yes. But I can also help you. If you--when you get into trouble, I will be able to find you quickly. It will be easier to protect you."

He did have a (very minor) point.

"Uh-huh, and the amped-up sexual attraction?" She pointed out.

"A little bonus," he said with a wolfish grin.

For her or for him?

As though he were calculating a chess move, he wrapped his hand, finger by finger, around the wrist of the hand he was holding. He pulled her toward him smoothly and placed his other hand on her hip, stroking her thorough her silky nightclothes and pressing his fingers into her.

"You know, Sookie..."

"Don't even think about it."

He chuckled softly. She was trying so hard, putting on such a strong face. But the bond didn't lie and it was coming through loud and clear. She took a step back. How cute. Good for her, for trying. It was noble even. He knew it wasn't easy for her, he could sense her inner battle. He also noticed she didn't put herself out of his reach.

Her body was screaming out for his attention, and he could tell as sure as if she'd said it. She wanted his hands all over her. She'd underestimated how adept and masterful his fingers would be. And she already figured he'd be pretty damn good. She relaxed just slightly into how firmly he was holding her wrist, and her eyes felt heavy. He was methodically stoking the fire in her belly, and she was starting to register the tingle of strategic parts of her body aching to be touched.

He used her wrist as leverage to spin her 180 degrees and in a blurred split-second he was standing behind her so her back was almost touching him. He slid his hands down her arms and up her sides to begin gently rubbing her shoulders.

After a full minute, he assured her, "Listen, my ferocious little kitten, I know you're upset..." He moved her hair over one shoulder and let his fingertips graze her neck, pushing her robe down a bit.

"I'm not your anything," she said without real conviction.

He bent down and kissed the sensitive spot on the side of her neck. "Alright."

"And it was nasty and underhanded."

"Yes," he said trailing the kisses calmly around to the back and then up her shoulder. Occasionally he would use his teeth on her skin lightly.

"And...you...had the gall..."

Her earlobe.

"it...was deceitful..."

The nape of her neck--that sent a zing through her skull--and then downward, moving the robe.

"and you are...I see now...the worst sort of..."

"Mmm-hmm," he replied absently, his attention on her jawline and then her cheek as he took her chin softly but deliberately with two fingers, turning her face to him.

She shuddered and he moved the other hand around her waist, pressing her into him and holding her in place as he descended on her mouth. She could feel his lust and his intention through the bond and it only heightened her own response.

The man had had 1,000 years to learn exactly how to kiss a woman, and the result was devastating. He was an expert with an arsenal of weapons at his disposal. He swept his tongue into her now-pliant mouth and sucked at her bottom lip. He bit her just a little, giving her a moment to breathe, before crashing down on her again, hard. He had the precision of a surgeon and the finesse of an artist. This was what she told herself by way of explanation when she came to enough to realize what she was doing but didn't stop.

He had slowly and purposefully aroused her desire and had her teetering on the edge of surrender when she pushed him away. It had taken every last ounce of of discipline she had to break away and stumble backward.

"What are you doing?" she asked with unconvincing dismay.

He looked her directly in the eye. "You can't pull that with me anymore, Sookie, I can feel what you want," he said with diminishing patience.

"This isn't right."

"Is that so?" he said with a mildly skeptical look.

Sookie swallowed. "One of us has to be the responsible one here. I'm ending this little string of bad decisions right now," she said rigidly, heading for the door.

She never made it.

He grabbed her by the waist and in one graceful move, drug her back and pushed her onto the bed, trapping her under his own body.

"We're done fighting now," he informed her. He was gripping her her now by the wrists overhead with one hand, the other on her ribcage and his pelvis on hers.

He kissed her throat and the tops of her breasts where her robe had fallen open as she struggled.

"Eric, if you don't stop right now--"

"Don't threaten me," he said flatly without anger before returning to the valley of her cleavage.

He released her at the ribcage to peel her nightgown down off her breasts, which were very visibly aching for him. He obliged them.

"Ugh," she moaned involuntarily. Voluntarily, she bucked and tried to wriggle an arm free, which didn't seem to bother or deter him. He went on pleasuring her as thoroughly as if he were indulging a request. She struggled against his onslaught, twisting her hips. It was utterly futile, partially because he was much, much stronger and partially because she didn't really want him to stop. Finally she paused, panting, her chest rising and falling quickly to catch her breath. He stopped too and looked up into her eyes. She expected him to leer but he just looked...serious?

He skimmed his fingertips pointedly around one breast and then the other, not breaking eye contact. He cupped one gently and stroked his thumb over a nipple.

She watched him, her chest still heaving, a thin layer of sweat forming on her face. Her will was fighting so hard, but his hands felt amazing. It was as though she'd never been touched before and it felt so good. Reverent but possessive. Calculating. Authoritative.

His gaze swept down her body and back up into her eyes.

He reached down between them, drew her nightgown up and took hold of her by the sex.

He massaged in agonizingly slow circles through her panties, which were soaked straight through. She sucked in a gasp and her stomach tightened as she braced herself for what she knew was coming. Her thoughts weren't linear enough anymore to weigh the consequences.

He pushed the elastic down and slid his nimble fingers between her lips from back to front. He felt the full extent of her wetness dripping into his palm and raised an eyebrow at her.

Her whole body unwound at once and all her resistance vanished as she rolled her head back, closing her eyes, and letting a moan escape her throat. Her hips ground back on his fingers of their own accord and he smiled at his triumph.

She was struggling in a new way now, riding his fingers with abandon, trying to get more friction.

"Please..." she gasped, overwhelmed and desperate.

"Yes?" he said, still stroking her clit idly and occasionally dipping his fingers down to her entrance.

"Eric, please..." she groaned.

"Please what?"

"Touch me"

"I am touching you."

She looked at him pleadingly and he stroked her on that unstable edge a few more seconds for his own enjoyment. And to establish that she was begging him. Begging.

Then he plunged two fingers into her hot core and circled her clit with his thumb. It would have been bad enough had he been human. The skill with which he tormented her was world class. But he also had vampire speed and effectively full control over the timing, intensity, and duration of her orgasm. His thumb was vibrating on her.

When he couldn't wait any longer, he removed his thumb and replaced it with his equally dexterous tongue and mouth. She felt the swell of pleasure and finally came, exploding into pieces and calling out his name. The waves of delicious satisfaction rippled through her over and over. It hadn't been like this before, so deep, so intense, so complete. Her body thrashed beneath his ministrations as the pleasure drove up from every part of her body and crested brilliantly where her flesh met his mouth. He kissed and licked her as though he were kissing her mouth as she came down gradually.

He pulled himself up to lie next to her and tucked her into into his body, spooning and petting the outside of her mound until her breathing returned to normal.

She looked up at him then and he tilted his head down and kissed her softly on the lips. She deepened it and climbed on top of him, straddling his still-clothed hips and grinding herself into his erection. If she was going to hell, she may as well do it thoroughly.

She still hadn't seen him fully naked and she found herself strongly drawn to the hardness she felt between her thighs. It must have been chemical or something. She wanted it all over her, in her mouth, inside her, she wanted to press her face into his lap. She was suddenly obsessed.

She leaned down to his ear, "I want you." This she clarified with a well-timed grind.

"Not tonight, lover" he laughed.

"What?" She looked down at him confused, and a little hurt.

"It's almost dawn."

She looked over at the clock. _Shit. When did that happen?_ "But..."

"Are you so unsatisfied, my love?" he asked with a smile.

She couldn't take her eyes off his prominent erection. "No, I just..."

"Come to me tomorrow," he said, reaching into his pocket and pressing a room key into her hand. "Sunset should be a little after eight o'clock. Come to my room at eight, lay down on the bed...wearing only this," he put a second thing in her hand. She looked down. A blindfold.

"I want you naked, blindfolded and waiting on my bed when I rise."

She shivered. Somehow, it occurred to her, leaving the room and returning crossed a different line. It was more planned, more intentional. But Eric had opened a whole new door. She knew things weren't going to be the same whether she returned to his room tomorrow or not.

He leaned down and kissed her, stood up, lifted her hand, and kissed that too. "Soon," he said, and vanished into the back room for the day.

She looked down at the contents of her fist and back up at his door as it closed.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

So...um...I'm reposting this chapter with one tiny little logistics fix. I accidentally broke the time-space continuum regarding whose hotel room they were sexing in. See what had happened was...I got distracted by all the porn and forgot that the story has to actually make sense.

Thanks, howyoudsdoin!

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Thank you, thank you, thank you for the reviews! Man, this was my first one and no one warned me, Reviews: worse than meth. Someone should bottle that shit. I love knowing what you guys would like to see; feel free to critique too. Or just read and enjoy!

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7:45pm

Sookie sat on her bed and turned Eric's room key over in her hand. This was ridiculous. Was she seriously considering this? No, no she was not. She'd spent the day in the little shops around the hotel, brought a book to the cafe across the street, and emphatically decided against going to Eric's room tonight. Ok so maybe it shouldn't have been a romance novel she was reading as she ate lunch. Tiny oversight. But nevertheless, she was going to be practical about this. She'd just wait until Eric rose and then she'd return his key. She'd thank him, let him know that it truly had been fun, really fun, but now it needed to stop. This was Eric. Yes maybe the chemistry was spectacular but what then? Was he going to take her on a date, cook dinner for her on a Friday night, hold her hand at the movies? Would she sit at home and knit while he ran the bar and fed off the fangbangers in his office?

7:49pm

But it was just so good. He was so good. Who really needs the movies? They pale in comparison to laying naked before a consummately seductive virtuoso of female pleasure with hundreds of years to hone every possible variation in preference. Come on, is that something you can just turn down?

7:50pm

Yes. Definitely you can. You can and you will. Just give him a few more minutes to wake up, realize you won't be joining him, then politely return the key. She was vaguely aware that at some point she'd gotten up and begun pacing...What had be been planning to do when he found her exposed and helpless on his bed? Would he tease her? Take her right away? Make her beg again?

7:57pm

Three minutes. Shit. Shit. Shit. What did we decide again? Right, just say no.

8:00pm

Exhale. There. That wasn't so hard.

She set the key on the desk next to the door and picked up a hairband. In a move so habitual it was automatic, she gathered her hair into a high ponytail and wrapped it twice as she checked her reflection on the mirror. Maybe she should put a cardigan on over her dress before heading out to return the key.

And that's when she heard the knock at the door.

For a moment she just looked at it, hands frozen in place over her ponytail. She pulled it tight, gathered up the sweater and key and opened the door.

It was him, of course. All 6'4" of him: lean and languid, regarding her with amusement, wearing a black tank top and matching jeans, hands in pockets.

She started to speak, but nothing came out. She thought she'd have a few moments to compose herself before having to face this conversation.

He scanned her thoughtfully. "You're late."

"I...No, Eric, listen, I was just coming to tell you, last night was fun, but I think we both know--"

"Fun?" He repeated, cocking an eyebrow at her. Judging from his expression he was enjoying how his presence rattled her. He took her by the waist and backed her into the room, ignoring her objection. As he released her he took the contents of her hands and set them on the desk.

"--that it was a mistake." she finished, with difficulty.

He closed the door behind himself, then turned back to the torn-looking blonde in front of him. His face was intensely predatory.

Focus. Breathe. She shut her eyes in an attempt to resist temptation. "Eric...this wouldn't be...it wouldn't work. And I don't want to be some cheap..."

She stopped short when he trailed his fingertips down her arms. Her eyes were still closed. It just wasn't fair, it was too good. Like her own personal kryptonite. She immediately felt a wave of pleasure followed by comfort and lust through the bond and she knew he was pushing it out to her, willing her to yield.

"Sookie," he began, drawing his fingers up her shoulders and into her hair, "would you like me to go?"

Her chest tightened. She'd been anticipating this all day, even as she talked herself out of it in shops filled with blown glass and pricey stationary. She wanted to step forward into his arms. It felt, against all logic, safe. She was so divided she stood in place, equally drawn toward him by lust and away by reason.

He took her silence as tacit compliance.

He wrapped one hand around her and placed it on the small of her back, urging her hips forward, then leaned down to kiss her, soft and lingering.

"Eric, we can't," she sighed, resigned.

"I can."

"I'm sure you can," she said, gathering her wits about her and clearing her head, "I'm not pretending I don't want to; I'm telling you I'm not going to. I have a sense of decency, maybe you should look into it."

"Oh? And how decent were you last night when you were begging me for release and coming in my mouth? Have you forgotten that you very decently ground yourself all over my lap?" he rasped, leaning into her neck to make his point.

She slapped him across the face. "How dare you!?" she spat.

She'd struck him hard, but his head only moved about half an inch. He looked at her for a moment, noticing that she'd surprised herself.

"That's it," he snapped.

And in a split second, he'd snatched up her forearm, twisted it behind her back, seated himself on the chaise at the end of the bed, and forced her to her knees on the floor in front of him. "I've had quite enough," he said definitively.

Her eyes went wide and a swell of fear rolled through her. She was caught off guard, immobilized before she'd had a chance to counter. She didn't know what to expect next. Her arm hurt a little and the angle held her down very effectively.

Then in a flash she realized what she was at eye level with. Or, oh God, mouth level.

"Eric, no," she stammered, "even for you--" She had about ten conflicting emotions at once. Her bloodstream flooded with adrenaline in preparation to fight back (right?).

He snickered as he read her face and felt the rush of anxiety through the bond.

He laughed darkly, "No, lover," another low laugh, "you haven't earned it." And he jerked her by the arm to one side of him. "For some reason you insist on being difficult, and I'm growing tired of it." His free hand took her by the back of the neck and forced her over his lap.

It was then that it dawned on her, in her gut, what he intended. And she would be damned if he thought she would let him.

"Oh hell no," she yelled, managing to push herself about six inches up from his thighs, only to be slammed right back down on them.

"Oh yes, lover."

She grunted in protest, insulted, trying unsuccessfully to push herself back up, and when that didn't work, to wiggle out from under his grip. He held her in place easily, lifting her dress and exposing her satin-clad bottom. "Very nice." he murmured, "...but assaulting your lover as soon as he arrives? Tut, tut, tut, not very nice, Sookie. Many women would envy you, you know. Less violent ones."

"Oh you haven't even seen violent yet, buddy!" she snarled, fighting with renewed vigor.

He raised his hand and smacked it down on her backside cruelly. It landed on the soft sweet spot where the back of her right thigh curved into cheek. The impact reverberated between her legs. She was surprised by how satisfying the vibrations through her muscles were.

"Buddy? Really? That's another." And he hit her again, this time on the left side, harder.

"Ow!" The sharp pain blossomed and faded.

He soothed her with his hand where she was now turning light red. She squeezed her legs together, there was no denying that as the sting subsided a tingling warmth overtook her. It felt kind of...well, it hurt. But it was also strangely calming, and when he stroked her softly afterward her whole body shivered.

He felt her relax and peeled down her underwear. He was fondling her again, letting the occasional featherlight fingertip trace over her outer lips. He could feel how wet she was without even parting them.

He had her.

He twisted the other hand into her hair. Using a fistful of her blonde locks he pulled her up to his mouth and whispered, "lover, you're dripping wet," into her ear as he slid a single finger into her. She made a small noise.

Then his finger was gone and she was being pulled to her feet by two strong hands around her ribcage. Before she could voice her disapproval she found herself over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. It knocked the air out of her lungs.

"Eric, what are you doing?" she choked out when she'd caught her breath.

"Abducting you," he replied evenly as he opened the door. And faster than she could process, they were in Eric's room and the door was closing behind them. She would wonder later why upside down warp speed didn't give her motion sickness. Right now she wondered why she wasn't putting a stop to this whole sinfest. She meant to, she really did, she opened her mouth and everything. The words just wouldn't come out.

In one fluid movement, he set her on her feet and then gathered her dress at the hem and drew it smoothly over her head. Her panties were still pushed down and as he dropped the dress he looked her up and down, then shook his head, "You don't even know, do you?" And with that he bent, hooked his fingers into the elastic of her underwear, and drug it down off of her.

He kissed the outside of her reverently, then bit without breaking skin. It was firm but didn't hurt. It did make her tense up. She was fully aware of how strong his jaws were; it made her think of a lion tamer's arm in a lion's mouth. He nipped her in tiny bites a few more times and then in an instant he was upright and only a few inches separated them.

Screw reason, she wanted him. She wound her arms around his chest and kissed his neck, working her way to his mouth. The fabric of his clothes brushed against her skin and she pressed herself against it. Her hips were seeking friction on him. She felt strikingly bare since he was still fully clothed.

His weight backed her against the wall behind her. He took her hands in his and pinned them on either side of her face without breaking the kiss. His mouth was irresistible, pliant but firm, clever and decisive. His tongue was cool as it skimmed hers, it felt like he'd just taken a drink of ice water. He left her mouth to nibble down her neck, then returned to her. One of his hands left hers and reached between her legs to caress her as they kissed. She moved with his hand and rocked gently on him. He dipped one finger, then another inside her, eliciting a deep moan from her throat.

He picked her up as though she were a ragdoll and deposited her on the bed. She pushed the covers down and leaned her back against the headboard, legs bent, feet flat on the bed, watching him. He sucked his fingers into his mouth, savoring her.

He had sauntered to the edge of the bed, but hadn't joined her. He pulled off his tank top, stretching his hands over his head, and tossed it to the floor. He began unbuttoning his pants, stealing a quick look at her face, full of anticipation. He smiled down at his hands and finished removing his clothes in fast forward. She realized the slow beginning had just been showing off.

Her whole body tensed like a spring when she saw him fully naked. Somehow it was much more real, and it set off something primal in her. His was a body that promised aggression: his muscles, his very imposing and considerable arousal, the flash in his eyes, she'd never felt more like prey.

He smirked, let his eyes roam over her, and licked his lips.

With one knee on the bed, he threw the covers back toward the chaise and kneeled in the center of the mattress. He grabbed her under the knees, dragging her to him in one efficient motion. He let his erection touch her folds, gliding over her nub and then finding her entrance. Her eyes closed in pleasure and he relished watching her, her face was such an open book when she was unguarded.

"You are mine," he pronounced.

He slid into her with, considering his general lack of impulse control, restraint, and let her adjust to his size for the first slow thrust. She hissed in delirious satisfaction when he reached the hilt and pushed her hips back against him. He pulled out and drove in again, much more forcefully. If the first penetration had been for her, these were all for him, and he withdrew and slammed back down slowly but brutally. He was fucking her like he meant it. He wrapped one of her legs around his waist, and took her by the hips, tilting her masterfully and she began sobbing with each thrust.

It was a deep, complete, overwhelming feeling for her. He felt it come flooding through the bond and knew her head was swimming with bliss. Her rational mind was drifting far away. He sharpened the feeling with a thumb on her clit, circling her with her own wetness.

She pictured him coming inside of her, and that pushed her right to the edge.

It was then that she heard the knock at the door and the masculine voice, "Eric?"

Bill.

Her body froze and her brain snapped back to attention. Eric's eyes shot toward the door and in a move so quick, she knew he hadn't debated it, he clamped his hand over her mouth and drove into her again, possessively, relentlessly. He was looking directly into her eyes, keeping her focused.

"Eric? I can hear you. Have you seen Sookie?"

Her eyes registered shock and her body surged with horror. He held her down and fucked her harder, silencing her moans with his palm. The other hand was gone from between them to facilitate her forced submission, but he'd pressed his body down on her and his pubic bone was tormenting her nub with precise friction.

"No. Busy." He said dismissively to Bill through the door. Only Eric heard him leave.

He brushed his lips on the edge of her ear, "You are mine," he rumbled, and bit into her neck. She came violently, bucking beneath him as he held her down and crying out against his palm. The momentary panic had amplified her orgasm and it hit her like a truck, wave after wave coursing through her. He pulled the blood into his mouth. Her exquisite taste, spiked with fear, and her spasming inner muscles clamping down on him triggered his own release, which he shot deep into her. The suction took her back up again, screaming, before she finally, thankfully began her descent.

She came down slowly and the real world came flooding back into her consciousness. He was still inside her, licking her neck to close the wound. Given his age, it was fading quickly.

"Oh God." She said, referring to so many things.

"Not really," Eric replied smugly, rolling off of her.

He scooped his arm under her waist and flipped her over on top of him, tucked under his arm. She fit into him perfectly. The comfort of his body and the bond wasn't enough to drown out reality as it crashed down on her.

She sat up, "Oh God, no," she repeated, looking at the sheets as though they held any answers.

She leaped out of bed and yanked her dress over her head, then bolted for the door.

Eric was lying back in bed, arms folded behind his head, when she paused and looked over her shoulder at him with her hand on the doorknob.

"See you soon, lover" he said assuredly.

And she was gone.


	3. Chapter 3

So when I conceived this little piece of smut I didn't really figure going past Chapter 2. But some very kind reviews suggested I continue and I am nothing if not a people-pleasing praise whore, so here we go. Maryann is very back-burnered and Eric has already been invited to Sookie's house. He just has. I tried to watch Shake and Fingerpop online and write in why he's got an invite and the internet was having none of it. So "suspension of disbelief" por favor. Got this idea from a Buffy fic called Sleeptalking by Nautibitz. If you're into Spike and you don't know Nautibitz...you're welcome.

Sookie didn't think she'd ever been more bone tired and glad to be home. Good thing she lived alone; she couldn't have held a conversation or dealt with another person if she'd wanted to.

She was physically and mentally shot. Emotionally, she was even more depleted. Shutting the front door behind her, she dropped her jacket, purse, bottle of water and keys to the floor in one shrug, and immediately dove facedown on the couch.

Ugh.

Facing Bill after what she'd done with Eric had been ugly and exhausting. She hadn't told him the whole story; he didn't want to hear it. But he knew she'd "been with" _him_. The whole talk had been awful and ended with her feeling sick to her stomach. She'd never felt more acutely uncomfortable for such a long stretch of time. She tried to apologize but, despite her honesty, he blamed Eric for almost everything—for tricking her, for seducing her. At the end he had said he wanted space to sort out how he was going to handle it. She didn't argue. It wasn't the time to say so but she wanted the same thing.

In fact, she wanted distance from the whole lot of them. Not just because she couldn't get Eric out of her head—though that was becoming a real problem—she needed some normalcy for a while. _Well, maybe in my case normalcy is relative, but stability at the very least._

When she felt like she could move again, she hung her jacket in the closet and her purse on its little hook. She put away everything but the suitcase; that could wait until tomorrow. Thank the good Lord she didn't have to be at work until five.

After brushing her teeth and twisting her hair into a clip, she ran herself a bubble bath and lowered herself into it. The water was steaming hot and felt absolutely wonderful. _Too bad it can't wash away your sins._ She rested her head against the cool tile and before she knew it, she had dozed off and away from her racing thoughts.

When she woke up hours later, she had to blink a few times to figure out where she was. Her fingertips were pruny and her back was stiff. The water around her had gone tepid.

*****

The next day after work, she was determined to take the bull by the horns.

"Fangtasia, your date with debauchery."

Only Pam could make an underworld of blood and sex sound mundane. Still, it was good to hear her voice.

"Hi Pam, it's Sookie, is Eric available?"

"Sookie! What a treat, I take it you made it back from your adventures in Dallas unscathed?"

"Barely," she breathed. She could hear muffled voices and the click of Pam's heels walking through the bar, which wasn't quite in full swing, but was well on its way. Maybe that's why she hadn't seemed as put-upon as usual. Or maybe she was just glad to have her other half back in town.

"The master is all yours," Pam mused.

And Eric was on the line, in pure Alpha-boss mode, "I am here."

"Well lucky me."

"Sookie, my angelic temptress, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I'll keep this very brief."

"Such a tease," he sighed with a hint of genuine disappointment.

"I'm going to tell you what I told Bill."

That stopped him dead. "...You told Bill?"

"That I'm taking a break from vampire world."

_Oh._

"Dallas took a lot out of me. I was almost blown to bits and got saddled with this stupid bond and that night we...we..." she came up short.

"Nights."

"What?"

"Plural," he corrected.

"Whatever. You can consider the lapse in judgment singular."

_We'll see._

"I know you'll be in Bon Temps this week when you take your turn for maenad patrol," she went on, "I just ask that you please leave me alone. I wasn't built for this stuff; I need a break from you all."

There was a long pause. "So you're contacting me to tell me not to contact you?"

"Yes."

He leaned back and rested his feet on his desk.

"Alright, then. You've told me."

Not an affirmative answer but she knew further argument would only provoke him.

"That's all. Thank you. Goodnight."

"So Bill is part of this vampire hiatus as well?"

"If you know he is, why are you asking me?" she deflected rhetorically.

He laughed. He liked her feisty. She snorted when he told her so.

"Sookie," he purred, changing tactics, "do you like what I do to you?"

_God yes, I've been fixating on it all day._ "You're a pig."

"That's not an answer."

"That's not an appropriate question."

"Are you aware of the extent to which you let convention limit you? 'Decent'...'appropriate'...those aren't real things, my dear, merely social constructions."

"Oh you mean manners? As a matter of fact, the assumption that manners and consideration aren't 'real' is exactly the kind of thing I'm taking a break from."

"Maybe I'll drop by for tea after my patrol."

"You're impossible. I'm not your after-hours entertainment. Don't try to see me." Then after a beat, "And don't send me anything either." _Good. Firm and direct. That's how he needed to hear it._

"Sookie?"

"What?"

"What are you wearing right now?"

"Goodnight, Eric." In those two words, he could hear the tiniest unintentional smile in her voice before she hung up.

He grinned at the phone, twirled the receiver like a baton and placed it on his desk without a sound.

_Oh endearingly obstinate Sookie. If I wasn't planning to pay you a visit before, I most certainly am now._

*****

Sookie laid the book face down on her lap and turned back to her dinner. Her afternoon at work had been trying—an unexpected large party (college kids on a road trip) had burst in at two o'clock, boisterous and demanding, and stayed until four-thirty. To top it off, four of them were clear broadcasters teeming with the usual petty, vulgar thoughts of insecure teenagers. It was grating.

She'd dashed out as soon as her shift was over, barely stopping to good-bye Sam with a kiss on the cheek, eager for the sanctuary of her own home. Her exhale of relief was audible as she stepped through the threshold of her back door. First order of business, ditch the work clothes. She chucked them in the hamper in favor of black yoga pants and a cream tank top, then padded into the living room and flicked on the TV just in time to catch Law and Order: SVU. _Hey, we all have our guilty pleasures._ Plopping down on the floor, she spread out her nail file, red polish, and toe separators in front of her.

The evening was starting to look up. Her mood had lightened as she leisurely cooked dinner for one. She set the table with the nice dishes, put some wildflowers in a vase, and made herself some iced tea as the sun set. Checking out her spread, she congratulated herself for taking charge of her own happiness. _That's right, sisters are doing it for themselves._

At least the day's irritation had kept her mind off her guilt. And the gut-wrenchingly magnetic blond thorn in her side. Um, til now. Oops. It had been three days since she'd banished him, and so far, he seemed to be complying.

Except.

It felt like he was always there in the corner of her thoughts. If he wasn't front and center, it was only because necessity dictated she focus on something specific, and he would wait patiently until whatever everyday distraction was gone.

More than that though, and she realized it was borderline diagnosable, she felt...watched. All the time.

She knew it wasn't physically possible. But she could swear she felt his eyes on her as she went about her day: working, stepping into the shower, brushing her hair, watching TV, falling asleep. The worst part was, it made her, kind of...pose a little. Twirl her hair as she did the laundry. Arch her back as she stretched and changed clothes after work. Select a more flattering bra; add a coat of mascara.

She stopped herself whenever she noticed she was doing it, of course, but it was infuriatingly subconscious.

Savoring the chicken and dumplings alone at her kitchen table, she noted it didn't seem depressing, this party of one, just nice. The recipe had been Gran's and it was comforting to have something so familiar. And knowing she was the one who had recreated it empowered her.

The book was a new one—mystery, not romance this time—and it was doing an excellent job of taking her mind off things. People. Vampires. Vampire.

So, of course, right on cue, when she swallowed her last bite, the doorbell rang.

_Oh it better not be._

The annoyance was clear on her face when she opened the door. "We talked about this."

"We did. We have, ah, differing viewpoints on the matter. And might I add your toes look beautiful."

"Don't start with me Eric, just go. I've had a long day and I'm not in the mood."

He breezed past her, into the living room. "Would you like to be?"

"No. I would like you to buzz off." she backsassed, stomping back into the kitchen without looking at his smirk. She gathered up her plate and silverware in a huff.

Unexpectedly, he was right at her back, dipping his mouth to her ear. "And yet," he gamely pointed out, "You do not rescind my invitation. Now why is that, Sookie?" he taunted, his lips touching her soft skin, his hands attending her inner elbows where he could feel her pulse.

She turned around, which put their faces only inches away. "I will."

He slowly leaned forward, closing the distance, and she arched back over the table, away from him. But she was only so limber and didn't exactly have anywhere to go.

He tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "You know," he said thoughtfully, sliding his fingers from her jawline to her voice box, tightening his touch into a firm grip. "I could simply take you if I really wanted to. You could be silenced and incapacitated in a matter of seconds. Less. Or I could drag you outside, where a rescinded invitation is meaningless, and let you scream all you want. No one would hear you."

Her heart was pounding in her temples. Being taken sounded...terrible, right? Terrible? Stoppit. Focus. She really should be offended. And probably a little more scared. But he was just so achingly gorgeous. Her hunger for him colored every other reaction. _Deep breath. Be strong._

Without warning he loosened his grip and smiled mischievously. He let his fingers fall down to her collarbone and looked from there up to her face.

"I don't think so," she said with a steadiness that impressed him. He allowed her to push his arm away and wiggle out of his grasp. She walked toward the door and indicated the exit. "Go patrol. You have no business here."

_Au contraire. _

He stalked toward her.

"And Eric," she said right as he reached her, "I will uninvite you."

"Sookie," he patronized. He cupped her jutted-out chin gently in his hand and brushed his thumb over her bottom lip, studying it. "No," he chided and tilted his head, "you won't."

And before she could do it out of spite, he vanished out the door. Always with the exit lines.

Why on Earth didn't she just say it? Her empowered happiness was gone and suddenly she was filled with anger at herself. It was as though she could muster up so much determination and resolve so long as she didn't have to actually see him. In his presence, when she needed them, her defenses crumbled like a paper fortress.

At least she'd held her ground this time. That was a good first step. She would build on that and learn to resist him. He was a manipulative jerk. An arrogant, selfish, beautiful, seductive..._shit._ She returned to the table and moved the pile of dishes to the sink. She washed, dried, and put them away. Then the cooking pans. Then she wiped down the counter. Before she knew it she was cleaning out the stovetop burners and reorganizing the Tupperware.

She couldn't clean forever, but she did successfully redirect herself. See, she could do this. She finished her evening routine, unpacked her suitcase and went to bed feeling accomplished but unsatisfied.

*****

There, he'd done his time. His patrol in the woods had been uneventful. If he left now he could still finish payroll tonight and not have to worry about it tomorrow.

But not before stealing one last voyeuristic peek at a certain spirited little blonde, whom, he could feel, was fast asleep. How adorable was her little show of willpower today? He flew to her house and peered through her bedroom window.

Sure enough, sprawled on her stomach, head turned toward him, limbs splayed about, there she was. Her brow had wrinkled in her sleep. He had a particular fondness for her like this. The sass and banter was entertaining to be sure, but Sookie like this was so peaceful. Spread out under her sheets, free from her busy little head, vulnerable to all the things that go bump in the night. It was like seeing behind the curtain, behind all her defenses and distrust.

She twisted her legs in her sheets and turned her head to the other side, resettled and, to his amusement, her lips fluttered. Dreaming? _Oh this could be fun. _

He lifted the window silently and slipped into her bedroom. Even the air seemed undisturbed. The tone of her dreams didn't reach the bond, and her sleep felt to him like soft static.

He sent lust through the bond, experimentally. She pulled one knee over a pillow it looked like she'd fallen asleep hugging and stretched her back just slightly. Hmm. Curious. Though possibly coincidence. In the name of scientific integrity, he sent another wave of desire to her, this one laced with the emotional imprint of their night together.

"Mmmm," she said low in her throat.

_Well, well, well, what do we have here._

He pulled her sheets back carefully and was pleasantly surprised by what he saw underneath. She was naked but for a pair of thin white cotton underwear.

"Eric..." she whispered.

He froze in place. Her eyes were still closed. _Oh really?_

He leaned over her and caressed the curve of her hipbone, watching her face, feeling his way to the softness of her stomach.

"Eric...touch me...please... anything..."

_Oh, Miss Stackhouse. You are in so much trouble._

Eric was excited in every sense of the word. Winning and exploiting the upper hand was what he did best; he was in his element.

Still poised over her body, he lowered himself to brush his nose and lips against her earlobe, kissing the vein right below it. "Sookie," he said soothingly and almost inaudibly, "I want you to surrender. Don't fight me, just let me take over." As he spoke to her, he stroked her hip unobtrusively.

"Mmmm..." she said smiling.

For a brief moment he closed his eyes and inhaled the scent of her hair. She really was just mouthwatering. He moved his lips back to the pulse point under her jawbone, feeling her chin on one cheek and her shoulder on the other. Her skin was so soft. He felt the warmth of her body on his mouth, and let his hands move down her back to her bottom. He liked this full part of her very much. Still fondling her backside, he raised himself up a little so he could see her whole body and began methodically tracing his fingertips from the sensitive valley at the bottom of her butt, forward to where she was warmest, to circle and return, in a teardrop shape.

Her lips were twitching again, but not forming actual words. He was enthralled by this new little game.

"Unh..." she was groaning, her forehead knit tighter.

Teasing her like this was invigorating, and he sent another rush of arousal at her for good measure, still tickling her between her legs through her worn-thin panties. He pushed his fingers as far forward under her as he could, massaging her mound and lower belly gently, then pulled back the few inches to her clit where he circled again, this time with more pressure.

She moved with him mindlessly, all control relinquished in sleep.

He fingered the edges of her underwear, so plain, so personal. His fingers slipped beneath the elastic and glided into her softness. She pressed back against him, moaning louder. He wanted to hear his name again. He really…really liked that.

Even more, he reveled in how wet she got for him, how quickly she became ready if not willing. No matter, her body would trump her will eventually. Plus, it was very enjoyable to watch her in distress.

He began massaging her in earnest, holding the elastic aside with the edge of his index finger, giving the others room to explore her with impunity. In her relaxed state, she was climbing the hill to release sooner than usual. With his other hand, he unzipped his jeans and freed himself smoothly. It was with this hand he dipped two fingers into her and returned to his own need, spreading her warm wetness over himself and stroking downward.

He worked them both in the same rhythm, watching her whole body churn in unison with his fingers. He felt her inner muscles clench down as she buckled beneath him. It was a rush to see her jerking and shaking, mumbling incoherently. He speculated as to how she was interpreting this in her dreams.

His efforts expertly dragged and slowed to draw out her unconscious orgasm, inadvertently slowing his own pace, keeping with her.

He withdrew his hand as she finished, still breathing hard but relaxed.

As she stretched contentedly and shifted her weight, he touched her shoulder and pulled it back, "Turn, lover, let me look at you," he said quietly to no one. She did turn onto her back and spread her body wide, completely open and vulnerable to him.

He felt himself twitch. Her underwear had stayed pushed to the side and with her legs parted, he could see all of her. He fixated there as he clenched his jaw and came into his own hand, barely stifling a roar.

He closed his eyes as his aftershocks slowed and opened them again to see her completely oblivious. God, she was so beautiful.

He took two fingers, still coated with the product of his release, and pushed them into her, the cool fluid warming immediately as it soaked into her. As he twisted and pulled back his hand, he adjusted her elastic.

He indulged in one more look at her peaceful little body, then pulled the sheets up over it, almost like tucking her in.

Placing a gentle kiss on her lips, he slipped back out the window into the night.


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks a whole bunch to YoungBoHo, my rock star of a beta, and to Rebel-b, whose encouragement spurred me to write this.

* * *

When she finally spotted the turnoff for Hummingbird Lane, it was well past two in the morning. Work had been enjoyably busy. She'd kept everyone's glasses full, joked with Lafayette, and chatted with Sam; she was in the zone. And she was feeling more and more human. Working around her persistent Eric thoughts was becoming second nature, like juggling all the other unwanted thoughts she heard all day. She had always adapted easily.

She pulled her car around to the back door but not before noticing the package on the front porch. _Gee, wonder who that could be from_… A little chuckle undermined her eye roll. Once inside, she dropped her purse on the counter and unlocked the front door.

Thursday she'd received a slightly smaller package that had contained three pairs of expensive-looking satin La Perla underwear in her size and a note:

I seem to recall you losing a pair in Dallas. Regrettably, they have not been recovered and their disappearance remains a mystery. Do let me know if these are to your liking. Perhaps in the form of a private viewing?

Soon lover,

E

_Mystery, my ass._ He had them of course. The only question was where and how visibly he was displaying them. Warmth crept into her cheeks as she remembered him sliding them down her legs and biting her newly exposed skin.

She had kept one pair and mailed the other two back to him, no note. Any attention at all would only encourage him.

Scooping up the larger box in front of her and locking the door again, she grabbed her keys and used them to slit the box open. First she read the note, a short one:

Sleep tight.

E

Then she looked behind it: sheets. 1,020 thread count, Sferra Giza Egyptian cotton sheets in Ivory.

_Not red?_ She raised an eyebrow.

So he knew about the dreams—must be a common side effect—and was being cheeky. At least he wasn't aware of the ones she had while fully awake; he was already too pleased with himself.

Bending her resolve for just a moment, she slipped her hand under the plastic packaging. The fabric felt buttery soft and smooth. These would definitely be going back. She put the sheets and note back in the box, set it by the door, and headed straight for bed.

****

That night, she had three dreams of him. Well, three she could recall.

In one they were back in the hotel room, but this time it was slower, more deliberate. He'd taken his time undressing her and kissing his way down her body. Gathering her into his arms, he had carried her to the bed and, with his mouth, explored every part of her. There was no place he didn't touch.

The next dream was simpler: the two of them talking and laughing in her bed. He had his arm around her and lightly stroked her back while she told him about her day.

The last was more colorful. She was a virginal peasant girl taken captive in a raid on her village. She was handed over to a certain tall blonde Viking god as plunder. He hadn't forced himself on her, but she'd been drawn to him despite herself.

It was this last dream she woke up from, her heart beating fast, the image of Eric as a Viking burned behind her eyelids.

Her hand drifted under her (150 thread count, K-Mart) sheets; she needed relief. _Sisters are doing it for themselves, right?_ She skimmed her fingers down over her body, thinking about the Viking dream. _No. Counterproductive._ Thinking about…something else, anything else. Brad Pitt in Troy? Too similar to another blonde warrior. She mentally clicked through a list of celebrities. _Meh_.

Sam? He was handsome and had been so friendly yesterday at work. She put them up on the desk in his office. Sam was kissing and nibbling on her neck, whispering that she was beautiful, digging his fingers into her hips. He pulled away to take his shirt off, and as he lifted it over his head, he became... Eric.

Eric, who picked her up off the desk as she wrapped her legs around his waist and slammed her against the wall, kissing her for all she was worth. He pulled her shirt off and got in a few hungry kisses to her breasts before she was able to switch the fantasy back to Sam.

Sam finished undressing her smoothly. As his mouth moved back to hers, he slid two fingers into her and twisted to just the right spot.

Instead of her own hand, she imagined Sam's between her legs. It was nice, but she was stalling out. In her mind, Sam was unbuttoning his pants. She watched the beautiful way his hands moved, then looked back up at...Eric's face. _Uh-oh._ Eric spun her around and bent her over the desk before wrapping his hand around to her and slipping his fingers between her thighs. He teased them back and forth over her slick folds.

"No one," he snarled, driving into her and stroking her clit with uncanny precision, "No one can satisfy you like I can." He filled her again, and she came in waves, her chest lifting up off the mattress.

_Damn him_. A heavy sigh escaped her as she stared at the ceiling.

****

Sam smiled fondly at her when she arrived at work. She gave him a friendly wave, then turned her face as she put on her apron to hide her blush. Though he hadn't been the star of the show, per se, he'd still been a factor in her little escapade this morning. She smiled to herself; she didn't think he'd mind too much. The naughtiness of the thought struck her. What had gotten into her today?

Merlotte's was slower than usual for a Wednesday, and at three o'clock Sam suggested she go home early, but instead of driving home, she headed to a strip mall two towns over.

Turning into the parking lot, she felt butterflies in her stomach. Should she really be doing this? She wasn't the kind of girl who shopped at places like this. Then again, she was an adult, and there was nothing wrong with a single girl seeing to her own needs. Tentatively, she opened the door and stepped into the Adult Books and Video.

The clerk behind the counter wasn't a pervy old man like she expected but a friendly looking woman about her own age with a nose ring and a pixie haircut.

"Hey," said the girl nonchalantly as Sookie entered.

"Hey," she responded nervously. Ok, maybe this wasn't so bad.

She walked past the counter and down the first aisle, which was lined with masculine anatomy in every shape and size imaginable. Some had porn stars posing on the boxes. She noticed some of the labels had words blacked out with a marker. _Wow, um, this was a lot_.

Sheepishly returning to the girl at the front, she squeaked, "Um… hi? Where are the, uh..."

"First time, and you want something simple?" asked the pixie.

Sookie exhaled. "Yes," she said gratefully.

The woman came out from behind the counter, and led Sookie back down the aisle but walked past the hall o' dildos that had stopped her before.

"Why are some of the words covered?" Sookie blurted out.

"Obscenity laws. I can't sell you a vibrator in the state of Louisiana. I can sell you a novelty. I cannot explain how it can be properly used, cleaned or stored."

"Oh."

"I will though, of course, if you ask."

"I, uh, think I got it."

The girl laughed as they came to the end of the row. "Here are our simple models. They're not the most efficient, but they're not intimidating either." She continued, gesturing across the aisle, "And these are the dual stimulators. The Rabbit, that sort of thing."

"Rabbit?"

"Don't watch Sex and the City?" she asked with a half-smile.

Sookie shook her head. This was a really bad idea. It made her feel dirty and a little nauseated.

"No worries, just stick to this section," she gestured to the simple ones. "Or if you're feeling brave, maybe that section," she added, pointing to the end cap. "The Hitachi Magic Wand, it's the best. Also simple, but infinitely more effective."

"H-how much is that one?" asked Sookie, barely flicking her wrist in the direction they were looking.

"Sixty."

"Oh."

Sookie's eyed darted around at her options. She could see the next aisle was full of whips and paddles. A middle aged man walked in the front door, which dinged a bell. This was suddenly too many different kinds of uncomfortable.

"I think I'll just—thank you, for your help," she stammered, backing toward the door.

"No problem, I'll be here if you have questions later. And you can always buy one online if you're too embarrassed."

Red-faced, she made a beeline out the door. _Oh, God, that was just... can't they sell those things discreetly? A wall of penises is too much for any girl to face. Nothing could be less sexy than a store like that._ She found herself wondering if Eric had ever used any of that stuff. He'd probably used all of it at one time or another. Gross.

Putting the car in Drive, she peeled out of the strip mall and headed to Super Wal-Mart. She needed to feel like part of regular society again. And she needed milk.

****

When she arrived home, another package was waiting for her. _Oh, Eric, give it up._ By the time she put away the groceries and toilet paper and put on hot tea, it almost slipped her mind. It wasn't until she spotted the sheets in their open box that she remembered to collect the new package.

Even though the gifts weren't welcome, and would most definitely be returned to sender, and couldn't possibly hold anything but lascivious come-ons, she couldn't help but feel a little giddy opening the box. There was just something about getting mail.

She pulled out the crumpled packing paper. _What'll it be this time, you smirking horse's ass? A nightie? Oh, that's actually a pretty good guess._ Her jaw dropped when she saw what the box actually held.

_What the? How?_ She looked around her living room for signs of him; checked outside the windows, turned over her shoulder to see the empty back porch, then looked back down at the box.

There inside it, with a big red bow, was a Magic Wand.

_You've got to be kidding me. Was he there? Oh this is so far over the line, it's not even in the same time zone. And if I find out he's been following me, so help me... Aside from this _thing_ being absolutely shameless, how could he have possibly known?_

She snatched her phone out of her purse and dialed the number for Fangtasia, punching in each number hard with her thumb. She looked down at the box and kicked it as the phone rang.

"Fangtasia, the bar with a bite," Pam drawled.

"Pam, it's Sookie, I need to speak to Eric," she snapped. She didn't mean to be rude, but she was seeing red.

"Hm, all fired up tonight, you okay?" She could hear the sounds of the bar in the background.

"I'm fine. He won't be."

"Aw, the master has riled you. I'm sure he's just sick about it."

Through the clatter she heard a door open, then quiet filled the speaker.

"Here's the man."

"Speak," commanded Eric's gruff business voice.

"What the HELL!?"

"Sookie Stackhouse. Aren't you in a state."

"Eric, you sonofabitch, have you been following me?" she accused before he even had the sentence out.

"I beg your pardon?" he asked calmly, making her seem all the more hysterical.

"Oh you know exactly what I'm talking about. How long? Since Dallas?"

"Sookie, I'm not following you, are you alright?"

"No! This is way out of bounds."

"Why do you think someone is following you?"

"I got your special delivery."

"If you're calling to thank me, I think I'd prefer it in person," he flirted.

"One, it was obscene, and two, how did you know about it if you didn't follow me?"

"My, my, Sookie, what _have_ you been up to today? I think your adherence to convention is making you not only frustrated, but paranoid as well."

"You haven't been watching me?"

"I did feel that you were somewhat..._charged_ this morning. Thought I might help alleviate it."

The bond. That hadn't occurred to her, but as soon as he said it, she felt like an idiot.

He hadn't been stalking her. That was good. But he could feel when she was horny. That was bad. And he'd sent her a sex toy. That was Eric.

She dialed down the outrage. "Eric, it's vulgar." she sighed, back to her usual annoyance.

"Try it, maybe you'll like it."

"No. I'm sending it back to you tomorrow. The sheets too."

"Don't bother, the former is in no way returnable, and the latter is monogrammed with your initials. They're yours."

"Why are you doing this?"

"Did you get the supplementary material?"

"Huh?" _Oh no, there's more?_

She pulled the vibrator out of the box. Underneath was a note written on an index card:

Dearest Sookie—

No lover of mine will go unsatisfied on account of her stubborn denial. So until I can attend to your needs myself...

E

She picked the note up and flipped it over. This wasn't an index card—he'd written on the back of a photo of himself, naked and aroused, reclining on a bed.

Her imagination hadn't done him justice. He was sheer perfection; his body seemed sculpted by an artist rather than forged through years of battle, each defined muscle formed for a reason. His eyes were staring right at her, a wicked look on his face. Seeing him like this reminded her viscerally of Dallas and her lower muscles clenched involuntarily.

Her breath caught in her throat before she could cover her reaction with a somewhat shaky, "Oh good grief."

"You like it?" It only came out as half a question.

"You're incorrigible."

"How was work today?"

That was out of left field. Especially because he sounded genuinely interested.

"Fine..." she ventured.

"Was it busy?"

"No, slow actually. Sam and I entertained each other with bad jokes and I left early."

"You should have come by."

"Now why would I do that?"

"To see me."

"Keep dreaming. And I'm still sending the gifts back. On principle. They're too extravagant."

"Just wanted to ensure you're sleeping well." he said innocently before suggestively adding, "Are you?"

Wait. She lowered her voice, "Eric, can you see my dreams? Are you, you know, in them? Wait, are you creating them?!" Maybe she should have gotten the logistics of this whole bond thing earlier.

He laughed evilly at her. "Oh, my delicious Sookie... no, your own mind creates them. I can't see your dreams, and I do not dream them with you. Though I have a pretty good idea what some common _themes_ may be. Would you like to fill me in on the details?"

"Fat chance. Goodnight, Eric. Oh, and just so you know, anything else you send will be returned unopened."

"Mmm, stern."

"Yes. I am."

"You kept the panties."

"You owed me a pair."

"You kept the red ones."

"I'm hanging up now."

"The red ones were my favorite. I'm sure you look magnificent in them, but I'd prefer to judge for myself. I'm holding the others for you."

"Goodbye, Eric."

****

She rolled over again and tucked her crooked hand under her pillow, squeezing her legs together. This wasn't working. She couldn't sleep. Every time she closed her eyes she saw him, lounging in his bed. Was that really his bedroom? A nervous thrill ran through her as she remembered that he'd be able to feel when she was worked up. She wedged her hand between her closed legs and pressed into herself.

She didn't bother trying to think of anyone else this time. _I've got to get some sleep; I'm being practical_. She began massaging herself through her underwear. They were the red ones he'd liked. In a blink, her brain had conjured his bedroom, or at least, the one from the picture. He laid back passively to let her touch him. She explored every swell and valley while he watched her.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to just..._oh geez_.

She tiptoed into the living room. _Why am I sneaking around in my own house?_ Reaching into the box, she plucked out the photo. If he ever found out she did this...she shook the thought out of her head. It was too mortifying and it was throwing her mood off. She started back toward her bedroom, stopped, and went back for the vibrator. Contraband in her arms, she scampered back into her room.

Shucking the packaging, she plugged in the sin machine and turned it on tentatively. _Yikes_. _That's a bit excessive_. She allowed herself to study the picture again, then slapped it face down on the nightstand and turned off the lamp. _Can't believe I'm doing this.._. It was still buzzing.

She lowered it until it was barely touching her. With a cry, she lifted it away and froze. Then dropped it and pressed harder. _Oh my God. Oh my God, Ohmigod. _

It was intense, really intense. She tried out a few angles and movements until she found one that worked. _Yowza_. This wouldn't take long at all. Her eyes fluttered closed. She was back in the hotel room with him, letting everything back in—the tightness in her chest, his masterful touch, the rush of being alone with him.

She was teetering on the edge faster than ever before and flipped to a new scene. Since she was so close, the fantasy began _in medias res_, with him driving into her on his desk, his hand pressed over her mouth to keep her from making noise.

Her body coiled in preparation to come undone.

"I knew you'd like it." At the first syllable, she screamed bloody murder and threw the vibrator across the room, pulling the cord tight. He chuckled and retrieved it, clicking it off.

"Jesus H. Christ," she swore with a hand up to her pounding heart.

"By all means, continue."

"Oh you have some nerve!" she yelled at him.

"Have I told you how beautiful you look when you come?"

She flew out of bed in his direction. "Don't you ever sneak into my house again!" she said with a punch to his arm that landed with no effect.

"I knocked... maybe you didn't hear over the—"

"My front door was locked!"

"Yes, that." he said twirling in his fingers what she recognized as a bent bobby pin. "I may have picked your lock. A little."

"You MOTHERF—"

"Were you thinking about me?"

"What are you doing here?"

"I was in the neighborhood," he said nodding toward the woods.

"And you figured after your patrol you'd do a little breaking and entering with a side of harassment?"

"I thought it would be lovely to see you. And it is, truly." he said taking her in. She'd worn a nightgown tonight—thank goodness—but it barely covered her butt. She tugged it down. Now that she wasn't in fight-or-flight mode, she had the wherewithal to be thankful that he hadn't seen the picture on the nightstand.

"You scared the crap out of me." She smacked him again.

"I apologize," he shrugged. "Still. Worth it."

"That's the opposite of an apology."

He held out the wand to her, she didn't take it. "I'm pleased to see you're using it. I think you should finish. Would you like me to help you?"

"You never stop do you? I'm kicking your criminal ass out, right now."

"Not yet," he said hoarsely, taking a step toward her and turning it back on.

"Don't you even think about it," she warned.

"Too late." And he'd backed her against the wall next to her nightstand. With one arm around her, he could leverage his weight against her to hold her in place and keep his other hand free. Free to push the vibrator up against her most sensitive spot through the nightgown and underwear.

Her gasp was met with a searing kiss. He felt her weight drop; she was letting him hold her up, and she was kissing him back.

He flipped the switch to "high" and she came hard, writhing in his arms.

Dropping the vibrator, he set her on her feet. She swayed.

"Okay," he said soothingly and swept her up like a bride over the threshold. He carried her back to bed and slipped in next to her.

After calming down with her face pressed to his chest, she climbed up to straddle him. He rolled onto his back accommodatingly. "This doesn't mean I forgive you for sneaking into my house."

"Naturally," he obliged.

"And it doesn't mean I've changed my mind about my break, or you, or the packages."

"Of course not," he said, pulling his shirt off.

"You disgust me."

"So it would seem," he said, taking her by the hips and grinding her down as she bent to kiss him.

She'd wanted to do this for a while, she began to trace every inch of his smooth, beautiful chest with her lips. Starting with the crook of his neck and working her way down, she licked a nipple, and he groaned.

"Bite," he ordered.

She bit down on it gently, and he tangled his fingers into her hair. Cradling her head, he pulled her up to him for another deep kiss. She returned to his chest and then his stomach. It was so velvety smooth and defined that she couldn't resist rubbing her cheek against him before kissing back up to the other nipple. This close to his armpit, she could smell him stronger than before. He smelled clean and woodsy and very...Eric.

"You smell good," she whispered. He grinned broadly.

"You do too, I can tell from here." Taking her by the waist, he pulled her up so she was positioned over his face and held her down against his mouth, inhaling an unnecessary breath. "Mmmm," he growled, and she felt it resonate against her.

He ripped off her underwear, eliciting a slight noise of protest from her and buried his mouth in her, eager to have her on his tongue again. He'd tasted her in other ways, but this was especially sweet and delicious, and it wasn't long before he licked her dry. Then, in a blur, he slid between her knees and out from under her. From his new position he pushed her chest into the bed, forcing her bottom in the air.

"Touch yourself."

"What!?"

"You heard me."

She reluctantly grazed two fingers over herself and he returned to licking her. _Oh God. _

He probed her entrance and was rewarded with more wetness. Then he wound his tongue around her fingers, massaging over her folds and back up, all the way to the smaller hole above it. _Oh, sweet Jesus, do people do this?_

He tongued her there while she worked herself and she was shocked by how good it was. It didn't feel weird, more like turning up a volume knob.

He reached to the floor and handed her the vibrator wordlessly, returning to lick and kiss her in places that were never so explicitly exposed to another person.

For once, she didn't question him. She flicked it on and touched it to herself as he licked with more force. It felt raw, and obscene, and electric. His growl rumbled through her and she came a second time, his tongue spreading the feeling out through her whole body.

She turned it off as her orgasm subsided and moved to lie down but he caught her.

"No, stay here." He slowly placed soft kisses on her cheeks and lower back. "Ok, turn it on again."

"What? It's too soon, I just, you know..."

"Do as I say."

"But it's sensitive now."

"I know."

He stroked her lips with his fingertips, almost dipping into her center, but not quite. She was surprised to find she could go again and turned it on. At first it was too much, but as he slid a finger into her, she fell into his rhythm and let him work her into another climax.

Her thighs gave way and she wilted into the bed. Weakly, she reached for him, and he wrapped his arms around her, kissing her shoulders and the side of her neck. After a minute, he pulled away and moved her back into her former position.

"Turn it back on."

"No. Not this time, I'm worn out."

"Turn it on and put it between your legs, or I'll do it for you."

She gave in and obeyed, her irritation clouding her lust. The wand was relentless where she was still tender and throbbing. What was he trying to prove? Was he punishing her?

She turned it off. He reached up and turned the vibrator back on. Looking back over her shoulder, she shot him a warning look. The tilt of his forehead insisted.

It didn't take long for the discomfort to fade, and for her to break through a wall and feel good again. He slid his cock into her from behind, slowly, and found the perfect angle. Soon after, his hands swept up her back and over to the sides of her breasts.

He didn't break his languid rhythm, filling her over and over as he swirled his fingernails across her skin. He swept them over her ass, up her spine to the back of her neck, into her hair and back down her sides. The effect was sensual to the point of dizziness.

Her orgasm began to build, and it scared her a little. This felt different, more wild. It was rooted deeper inside her. An overpowering current swelled and she exploded in ripples of pleasure. It coursed through her veins, seemingly starting at her core and rolling outward endlessly. She impaled herself back on him with primal abandon and a scream rang out in a voice that didn't sound like hers.

With a second wail, she burst over the edge, but the grip of tension didn't release her as it usually would. Like _deja vu_ she was suddenly right on the cusp and it happened again, then again. The third time she crested, he grabbed her by the neck and yanked her upright, digging his fangs into her jugular. The bite extended her climax and induced his. He erupted inside her as her spasms milked him, squeezing in time with the waves of her release. As they came together and her blood filled his mouth, the bond ignited and opened wide.

After a prolonged descent, he finally pulled out and she collapsed, unable to move.

He fell to the bed and pulled her into his chest, folding himself around her small body.

"W...what was that?" she rasped when she could finally speak.

"That was a multiple orgasm."

She meant to say 'wow' but it came out as an unintelligible noise. It made him smile and kiss her forehead. The last thing she remembered was the deep contentment of his weight around her pulling her into a deep sleep.

****

The new package on her doorstep went unnoticed by both of them. It would wait until morning and the thick red liquid that seeped out of one corner would stain the wood of the porch.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Hey guys, sorry this took so long! I thought I could wrap this baby up with this fifth chapter but it's looking like six is the new five.

Many thanks as always to YoungBoho, who is so smart and intuitive it's just plain inappropriate and who recently wrote a kickass story called Porch Swing that I loved.

Oh, and the few lines from the books are meant as a wink and not thievery.

Thanks for reading!

* * *

Sookie slept harder than she had in a long time. She woke up around noon, feeling rested and vibrant. It was almost like the previous night had been a dream. That is until she caught something out of the corner of her eye resting against the base of the lamp on her nightstand. It was a note in Eric's right-leaning, curvy but efficient script:

____________

I've got your number. Soon.

E

____________

_Oh please._

She picked up the note and winced when she saw that the naked photo—right side up—was underneath. Slightly irksome, but she shrugged it off. He's the one that should be embarrassed; he sent it. And whatever "soon" meant, it wouldn't be tonight. She had work until one o'clock in the morning, and then she had a very important date with a bubble bath.

There was only time for a few errands before work, so she stepped into her favorite jeans and threw on a t-shirt, whipping her hair into a ponytail on the way to the kitchen. She reached for the coffee even though she already felt pert.

_Shoot, is that some kinda sign of addiction? Oh well._

For breakfast, she heated up some quick oatmeal on the stove and tossed in a handful of granola and chocolate chips. As she ate, she tried not to think about the series of events that had given her such a good night's sleep and subsequent bright mood this morning.

She was actually doing a pretty good job of keeping her mind at surface level: tying her shoes, grabbing her purse, looking forward to work, when, flinging open the door in her coffee-fueled hurry, she nearly tripped over the object on her front porch.

_Oh Eri__—__what the...?_

Her eyes darted around the yard as she kneeled in front of the small, square box, one corner of which was seeping inky red fluid. That was definitely blood. _I'll need to get the porch refinished._

She didn't want to think about what this was or what it meant. Maybe her vampire hiatus wasn't exactly going according to plan, but she _had_ kept a low profile lately.

_What could? …Bill?_ She returned to the kitchen for a knife and sliced open the tape on the box.

_Oh Christ..._

A bleeding heart slumped against the inside of the cardboard. Sookie retched.

There was no note, no address, nothing but the box and its macabre contents. Perplexed, she rested her weight back on her foot and looked out toward her driveway again.

She wracked her brain. It did look an awful lot like that packages that Eric had sent.

_What would possess him to...? Is this supposed to be romantic? Or a rejection? Is he being cruel? It makes no sense. Maybe someone else—someone angry at me? Maybe it isn't human. A prank then?_

If she didn't stop changing channels in her buzzing brain, she was going to drive herself crazy.

It occurred to her to call the police, but she didn't see any good it could do, and plenty of bad. Since she had no idea what to make of this bloody valentine, and since she couldn't yet call any of the people who would have insight about it, she decided not to let herself get too worked up.

She returned to the kitchen for trash bags, paper towels, and Clorox spray. Picking the box up carefully and gagging again when she saw the puddle of blood as it stickily separated from the box, she wrapped the whole thing in a clear plastic trash bag and tied a knot at the top. She tried to clean the stain some, but she knew it would leave a mark.

She set the box on the back porch to deal with when she had more information, washed her hands twice, and locked the door on her way out.

****

By the time she got to work at six o'clock, she'd decided it was either some stupid prank or something Eric would know about. Simplest solutions. Right? Ugh. She hated to admit that what she wanted most, what she'd wanted first, was to go to him for help. If part of her subconscious was framing him as any sort of hero, that part needed to be squashed immediately.

So squash it she did and tended to her customers. She delivered beers, served burgers, refilled sodas, and smiled a big fake smile. Thank goodness she was good at her job and could do most of it rote, because she was doing a spectacularly bad job of putting the heart out of her mind. It was all she could think about. The chatter of the bar's thoughts, plus trying to puzzle out the mystery, plus, oh yeah, doing her actual job was giving her a headache. She didn't want to tell anyone just yet, not until she had more information.

A little later, as night fell, a funny thing happened. She sensed when Eric rose.

_That was weird._

Though it was troubling that she could actually feel it in her body, she did relax a little knowing he was alive for the night. It made her feel safer_. Fucking bond. Fucking warm fuzzies._

At least the night passed a little quicker after that.

When one o'clock finally rolled around, she gratefully went through all her closeout processes. She refilled her ketchup bottles, wiped down her tables, and reconciled all her receipts. As usual, she finished sooner than Arlene and Tara and ended up helping them a bit before she headed to Sam's office to get her purse.

She smiled at Sam and made idle chitchat—the last thing she wanted was for him to read the tension in her rush to go. It would only lead to him asking what was wrong and trying to help.

Her sneakers crunched on the gravel as she walked to her car, it was a struggle not to book it at a dead run. She did drive faster than normal, and as soon as she was home with the door locked, she took out her cell phone and dialed Fangtasia.

After a few insistent words with an overly entitled fangbanger, she heard his voice come on the line.

"Speak."

"Hey..." she began guardedly.

"Sookie... are you calling to ask me out on a date? I accept."

"You didn't send me anything else yesterday, did you?"

"I sent you many things yesterday."

"Just be serious for a second—"

"I am serious." He infused every word with sexual promise. It was doubly effective now that she knew he could more than deliver.

"You know what I mean, behave."

"Don't I always?"

"Ugh, listen. Did you or did you not send me an unaddressed package with a bloody heart inside?"

Silence.

"What? No. Why would I do that?"

"I don't know, you're twisted. There's very little I would put past you."

"Someone sent you a bloody heart? When was this?" he demanded. She could tell by his tone that this was, without a doubt, new information to him. "You know what, never mind, I'm on my way—"

"No—" She was interrupted by the dial tone.

****

He arrived much sooner than she expected; he must have sped even more than usual. Which was saying a lot. Come to think of it, was the Corvette even street legal?

She also hadn't expected him to knock, which was a pleasant surprise given the habit he'd made lately of waltzing right into her house. When she answered the door, he was looking down at the blood on the porch. He met her eyes but didn't mention the stain; his expression was all business.

"Let me see it."

With no further explanation, she led him toward the back porch where he saw the bag immediately.

He shrugged out of his jacket and set it along with his keys on her back table. Rolling his sleeves to mid-forearm, he crouched down and untied the plastic knot. Lifting the whole offensive assemblage out of the trash bag, he looked at if from a few angles, and took a sniff of the box and then the actual organ.

"The maenad," he declared, like he was reading the results of some sort of scientific experiment.

"The... really?"

"I can smell her." He finally looked at her.

"But why?"

"My guess? As a challenge to me. She's been demanding tribute and has been unhappy with those we've offered so far. She wants something more meaningful... a sacrifice."

"Not everything is about you, Eric."

"Isn't it, though?" he smirked.

"Is it... human?"

"No, pig."

She huffed a big sigh of relief. "So why didn't she send a big box of gross straight to you?"

"Because that wouldn't send the message she wanted."

"You think she wants me as her tribute?"

"I don't know. I think she is threatening you. Spring Equinox is in three days, which has always been a traditional day of sacrifice, that may have something to do with it as well."

She eyed the box and then Eric, who raised his eyebrows as if to say 'feel free not to believe me but what options do you have?' He knelt and re-wrapped the box, tying two knots at the top.

This new realization along with still having the grotesque package in her house was making her sick to her stomach. Ideas swirled in her head, but she just wasn't sure what to do from here. There was a Big Bad in Bon Temps, and now it might be after her. Or maybe not at all. Or possibly in three days. Eric's face certainly wasn't giving off any clues.

Okay, fine. She'd dealt with worse. At least she had some answers now. This could be handled one step at a time. With that decision in place, she picked up the bag and brushed by him to carry it to the large trash can outside.

She unceremoniously dropped the package into the lined can and took both trash cans to the end of the driveway for pickup tomorrow morning. When she got back inside, she went straight to the kitchen sink to wash her hands. Even though she hadn't really touched the box, she felt tainted. Eric watched her go through these motions patiently from the kitchen table.

When she didn't have anything else to busy her hands, she sat down across from him and tucked them between her thighs. It was so much easier to clean up the actual box than the mess it represented.

Was she worrying over nothing? Was this only meant to scare her... or him? She looked down at her lap and tried to piece together a plan. Maybe Eric could figure out what this crazy bitch wanted before the Equinox. She could stay with Sam on the actual night if not. She could get an alarm system. She could get a dog.

He broke the silence without preamble. "You will stay with me in Shreveport until this is taken care of."

Well that lightened the mood.

"Ha! I have a perfectly good home, thank you very much." She didn't add the bit about possibly staying with Sam; it would just complicate the issue.

"She knows where you live; it isn't safe," he said dismissively. He didn't even sound worried, he was _that_ certain of his solution. He was so audaciously presumptuous sometimes.

"I appreciate the concern, I do—" she began. It was almost sweet that he was offering, but there was no way she was going to go stay with Eric in his house.

"Don't be disparaging. You will do as I say; it is the best way to protect you."

She made a rude noise. "I'm not in the business of indulging your damsel in distress fantasies."

"This arrangement is not for my amusement, it is for your safety, and I'm afraid I must insist. But to make it up to you," he smirked, "I'd be happy to indulge any fantasy you may have in return," he offered with a knowing look.

"I don't need to stay in Shreveport to be safe, and I'm not going to let you make this a big deal just because you want me to come play house with you."

"Humor me."

"One, I'm not going to hide behind you every time I get scared, and two, it's not practical for me to drive to work from Shreveport every day." She thought she said this last part decisively enough to move on. To reinforce that the issue was settled, she got up and moved to the couch, plopping down and bending over to untie her shoelaces.

He came to sit (infinitely more gracefully) next to her, and for once didn't try to squeeze as close as possible. Hm, behaving himself? Probably part of some scheme.

He reached down and took her feet, swinging them up into his lap and necessarily flipping her onto her back. Rolling her socks off, he began to dig his strong fingers into her arches. He massaged her feet one at a time, rolling each toe between his thumb and forefinger and rubbing the little muscles on the top of her foot, up to her ankle and around to the back of her heel. The friction warmed his hands, and for a moment, he felt almost human.

_Oh that's just plain devious. He's fighting dirty._ Her eyes drifted closed.

"Sookie, please find something else to be stubborn about. Your security is paramount, you aren't hiding, and I'm taking the liberty of clearing your schedule with the shifter for the next five days as a precaution. My day man will check on your home; I even have a guest bedroom if that will make you more comfortable."

If he hadn't just expertly relaxed her, she would have been more outraged. Since she wasn't really, she decided use his own techniques against him.

"You're not calling Sam." She stated flatly. "And guest bedroom just in case? As opposed to… what?" she half asked, half chuckled, "Staying in your bedroom?"

She opened one eye to look at him for confirmation. Yup. That had been his plan. Still was.

"Well of course," he said casually, "You're welcome to sleep in my room where I can personally see to it that you are kept very... _very_ comfortable."

She closed her eyes again and he resumed the massage. "You're just looking for an excuse to get me on your turf."

"Sookie," he murmured in a way that was clearly intended to be alluring, "I don't require a specific location in order to seduce you." He tickled the tops of her feet with a single finger.

"Oh shut it, man whore." she fired back.

"I beg your pardon?" He slid his fingers between her toes to spread them and rolled her ankle.

"You heard me, you big ol' letchy lothario."

"I am not a lothario," he said unruffled.

"Are too."

"However could I argue with such flawless logic?"

Silently she shrugged her eyebrows over her still-closed eyes as though her obvious rightness merited no further argument.

"A lothario pursues multiple women at one time with the intent to conquer them sexually and move on," he informed her. His hands were roaming up her calves to caress the inside of her knees. "Do I look like I'm moving on?"

"You look like you've got a lot of intent to 'conquer me sexually'."

"No, to pleasure you sexually, there's a difference. In fact, I'll tell you what. If I can make you come—right now—you'll pack a bag and come with me, right now. And if I cannot, you may do as you wish."

It was so ridiculous she opened her eyes and laughed despite her tight situation.

"Well don't you sound confident."

"Yes."

"Nice try, but I'm afraid I must decline," she mimicked. "You're not winning this one."

"Oh but I am. And with no intention of trying nicely. If you don't have the sense to do what's best for you, I have no use for politeness. I'll bind your wrists and ankles and strap you into my passenger seat."

She sat up and her mouth fell open. "You wouldn't."

He tilted his head down as he slipped a finger into his jeans pocket, it came out looped around a pair of handcuffs. He looked back up at her under his brow.

"I would."

She was speechless.

"I'd hoped to appeal to your reason, but if I find that lacking, you should know Plan B is brute force."

His sinister expression dissolved into a charming grin.

"Want to reconsider my offer?" His free hand returned to toying with the inside of her knee. The little strokes were sending currents of pleasure straight up her thigh and she had to work to keep the reaction off her face. Her hips wanted to roll toward him.

"If I say no you'll just kidnap me?"

"Mmm-hmm." His fingertips traced around to the back of her knee very lightly, explored the little nook there and then moved to the inside again, slightly higher.

"What's the point then?" she muttered as she ran through her possibilities.

"I enjoy a challenge."

"You mean fucking with me."

"Not yet. And since I'm so generous," he purred, sliding his hand up the inside of her thigh, "We can call the whole thing off, and I'll leave now and trust your judgment to sleep where you like… if," he taunted, skimming his fingers under her black uniform shorts to the edge of her panties, "You aren't soaking wet right now."

Before she could protest, he dipped two fingers under the elastic and ran them over the outside of her folds. "...Aw," he confirmed very softly, his voice dripping with mock-sympathy.

"I'll give you a ten second head start," he rumbled, removing his fingers and sucking them into his mouth with a soft, appreciative, "Mmm…"

"Wait, is there a time limit? Like thirty minutes?" she stalled.

"Fifteen."

She had one foot on the floor. "What if I really want you to stop?"

"You may say 'Mercy.'"

"And I can run?"

"You can try."

"Asshole."

"Ten...nine..."

She shot up and darted into her bedroom, slamming the door without looking back.

Following after her once he finished his silent countdown, he found the door locked and smirked. Clever little thing. She knew he could break it easily. But she also knew he'd then feel compelled to send someone to replace it. He stepped out the front door instead and turned toward her window, which was already open. _Touché._

He could smell her scent in the air and hear her heart pounding. She was either very scared or very excited.

She rounded the back of the house, feeling a little exhilarated that he hadn't caught up to her yet. The crush of the grass rang in her ears with each step, and she flinched, trying to cover the last few feet to the back porch more quietly. Every nerve in her body lit up as her hand grasped the handle of the back door.

Thank God she'd unlocked it to throw the box away or she'd have been S.O.L. She opened it just enough for her body and before she could even squeeze through she spotted them. Of all the dumb luck.

His keys were on the back table. Right in front of her. Her heart sang with the thrill of victory as she snatched up the keys and bolted for his car, pushing the unlock button on the way.

Three things happened in quick succession. The headlights flashed as the doors clicked unlocked, she felt a surge of intention through the bond, and his arms closed around her from behind.

The sudden pull backward clashed hard with her momentum and would have been knocked her off her feet if he hadn't been pressing her against his body. The keys fell from her fist and he caught them easily and tucked them into his pocket in a blur.

"Oh, lover, where do you think you're going? Change your mind?" he said low into her ear. The movement of his lips sent cold chills up her neck that built into a shiver. The chase had put her nerves on edge.

_No! So close!_

"No!" she squealed and began kicking. It wasn't fair! She shouldn't have logically had any chance against him, but the keys! They had been her break—she almost beat him at his own game!

She flailed wildly, and he caught her under the knees, folding her in on herself and holding her tight so she had no leverage left to swing.

At vampire speed he had them through the house and into her bedroom in a whoosh, every move effortless.

Still holding her, he buried his face into the crook of her neck and inhaled, then began kissing and sucking on her most sensitive spots: her jugular just behind her ear, then farther back along her hairline, down the back of her neck with passionately restrained bites, and around to her clavicle and throat with soft, open-mouthed kisses and licks. The advantage of his position meant he could turn her whichever way he wanted, to reach whatever part of her he wanted.

He lifted her face to his mouth and kissed her lips with all his expertise. It was firm but surprisingly gentle considering how tightly he was keeping her secured to his body. And it was more heated than he'd been before. It was greedy, like he had too many things to say to her.

He shifted her upright and cupped one hand around the back of her neck, the other he wrapped around her and held her to him by the ass. She didn't kiss back but her lips became pliant despite herself, and her fighting all but stopped. His body felt strong and solid against hers.

He dug his fingers into her nape and pulled her back, kissing the other side of her neck so she could breathe, before returning to her mouth.

Could he tell that made her feel more connected to him? Was that why he kept kissing her that way? She was at war with herself. His cool lips felt so good, and he knew just how to touch her. He rocked her body against himself. It would have been lewd if it weren't so damn sexy. The man just moved well.

The urge to give in was almost overwhelming. Her body was being pulled by repeated rushes of magnetism. She wanted to fuck him and bite him and rub herself all over him.

Her determination to stay strong was fighting to keep from drowning in want. Yes, she wanted him. But he'd been so obnoxiously sure that she would give in to him. She couldn't let him have this. If she relented, he'd think he was right about everything else. That he knew better than she did. Not to mention losing any hope of getting out of his plan.

He was always so arrogant. And it worked, it served him very well. But he couldn't just keep getting his way, it only reinforced the cockiness. She wanted to win this one, and she'd been so damn close!

He was using his grip on her head to tilt her head in concert with the kiss and control every angle. He slid the hand that was cupping her behind down the center and under the cheeks, still holding her tight, now from between the thighs.

When she pulled away for air, he pushed her onto the bed. She tried to scramble to sit up, but his weight was on her an instant later, and he was holding her head to the side, kissing his way down her neck. He grazed her skin with his teeth, and she couldn't resist turning her head a millimeter farther to give him better access.

_Damn him._

With one arm holding her down, he slid the other up her t-shirt to fondle her sides and breasts under her bra.

She stopped herself from arching into him. No! She thrashed again, and since he'd loosened his grip, she was able to scoot out from under him a few inches.

"Go ahead, lover: fight all you want," he murmured, then added in a whisper, "I like it." His teeth clicked together on the last word purposefully.

His calculated exploration of her didn't falter as she wiggled, and kicked, and occasionally (accidentally) leaned into his touches. He locked his mouth onto hers again and snaked his hand down her stomach. On her back with her knees bent, it was almost concave and left a gap at her waistband—just loose enough for his hand to slip under.

His fingertips brushed her soft curls a few times before moving down farther. He knew what he would find there; he'd smelled her already. But it didn't detract from the satisfaction of actually feeling how aroused she was. All his fingers were wet and he hadn't even parted her lips yet.

He petted her from there down the outside of her crevice to her ass several times before sliding his fingers between her lips. On the couch she had been dripping; he couldn't think of a word for what she was now.

He let her honey coat his fingers and slide into his palm as he very slowly circled her nub. He was still kissing her lips, her bottom and then her top, he sucked her bottom lip into his mouth and swirled his tongue over it. Then he delved into her mouth, moving in direct complement to his hand.

The mastery with which he worked her had slowed her efforts at resistance, and she was now only halfheartedly pushing back against his shoulder. While kissing him back. Not a very effective escape.

He pulled back to remove her t-shirt and bra and used the opportunity to look her body down and then up, leering at her. Her body language was clearly wanton.

"Looks like you like it too."

She lifted her heavy eyes. "You always have to ruin it."

He bent to kiss her newly exposed breasts and unbutton her shorts. "Just making an observation," he deflected before flattening his tongue on her nipple and licking her. The way he tended to her favorite spots felt incredibly good, and her instinct was to moan at the sensation of his cool tongue on her tender skin. She managed to catch the sound in her mouth, but he felt the impulse through the bond,

He dragged his teeth along the flesh on the underside of her breast, then took her nipple between his teeth, nibbling before sucking it into his mouth. He knew exactly how to make this difficult for her.

With a grunt, she wrenched herself out from under him and onto her feet, lurching for the bedroom door. He stood up and followed her with slow, slinky grace.

She flicked a look at him over her shoulder as her hand groped for the doorknob. It didn't turn. She looked down and jiggled it. _Locked. I'm an idiot._

But it delayed her just long enough for him to bend and take both of her ankles in one hand and sweep them out from under her.

She let out a gasp that bordered on a yell but instead of falling flat on her butt, she was caught mid-fall, facing him and being fondled again. She fought not to respond and only half won. He kissed her hard as he palmed her breasts very gently.

"It…must be…the fifteen mark," she choked out, grasping at straws as they sank to the floor and he moved to her neck.

He laughed at her condescendingly, not even looking at the clock. "Eleven and a half," he murmured between love bites, working his hand between her legs again.

Her body surged and started the climb to orgasm. _Oh shit._

She relaxed her muscles to misdirect him and then suddenly threw her whole body weight upwards and away from him.

In a move so deft, it surprised her even coming from him, he used her leap upward to pull her shorts and panties downward. He twisted her midair so that she was facing away from him when she came down onto her knees, crossing her feet under her and essentially binding them in place.

Her eyes went wide, and he smashed her back against his chest. He reached around her body and resumed stroking her clit, faster now, aided by her continued wetness.

He laughed softly right by ear, "Sookie… my feisty little minx." She brought her knees together, and he pulled them apart forcefully. He thrust one finger, then two, into her and began pumping as she cried out.

"I told you, I don't mind your fighting," he rumbled from over her shoulder. Without breath, she felt only the light wisps of the movement of his lips stirring the air against her sensitive skin. "I like it, especially when I can feel how much you want me while you do it. Did you forget about that?" He was working her nub again. "I can feel every jolt and pulse of your lust, I can feel what you like," then a little lower, "You like it when I'm a little rough." He kissed the side of her face.

The moment his hand was gone, she heard his zipper. She felt him pressing against her entrance from behind and then impaling her on himself. It wasn't painful because she was so lubricated, but it was sudden and intense. He wrapped his arms around her and fucked her on his cock.

She screamed at the intrusion, but it morphed into a loud moan when he returned to massaging her nub so swiftly it was a vibration. She shot up—up—up toward release. She couldn't think anymore, and her indignation was long gone.

All she wanted in the world was to come on his dick.

"You crave me inside you. When I touch you, you long to spread yourself open before me and let me claim you. You love it." He licked and bit the back of her neck like an animal between sentences. Then he rubbed her harder but slowed and deepened his thrusts, grinding his hips into her.

"You want me to do things to you, things you wouldn't have even considered before me. You want me to do everything to you. It's always been me, Sookie." She had been right on the edge for the past full minute, and she was losing her mind.

"You turn into a little slut for me, don't you, Sookie? You would do anything I asked of you right now. You like feeling like my little fucktoy. Let me see how much you love what I do to you," he commanded and dug his teeth into her neck.

She bucked against him, yielding to his ministrations and the filthy things he was saying to her.

"Ahhhhhhh!" she cried as her climax exploded over her. Her limbs jerked as every muscle from her brow, to her thighs, to the ones enveloping his cock clenched and released. His arms were all that held her body up as she lost control and let the pleasure roll through her.

She spasmed over and over, moaning and gasping with each new wave.

_Nothing…nothing this good…nothing else even exists…_

His stroking carried her through her release, directing it. It finally started to ebb, and she rested back into him as he stilled his hands and slowed his thrusts.

He turned her small body and she wrapped herself around him, letting her pleasure dissipate slowly and pressing her face into his skin. He held her tight, and she felt herself being lifted.

He kissed her temple and tossed her on the bed as she shrieked.

"Get your jacket," he ordered over his shoulder as he swaggered into the living room.


	6. Chapter 6

Sookie gaped at the empty doorway with a mix of shock and indignation, trying to catch her breath as she sobered up.

_How could he—How could I have—Why didn't I—That smug little—Ah, crap._

She sighed and stared up at the ceiling. So now she was obligated to stay with him for three nights.

She grudgingly tried to make peace with her circumstances. It _was_ safer this way, and it wouldn't be so bad to take a little time off work and not have any obligations.

_Right. Except of course whatever Eric foists on me, be it business or…_

So be it. She could say no at anytime, to any advances. She would have some modicum of dignity. And a door with a lock.

_What, like that's going to deter him?_

A shift in the cool air of the room chilled her sweat-slicked skin and she rolled off the bed to begin getting dressed. She dug in the drawer for her ratty jeans and pulled an old sweatshirt over her head. A weak statement, but at least it communicated that she wasn't some coquette to be seduced.

Selecting a few other casual tops and stuffing them into a duffel bag, she grabbed long flannel pajamas, socks, underwear (plain, white granny panties) and her toothbrush, and went to face her doom with her head held high.

Her doom was lounging in a wingback chair, right ankle resting on left knee, relaxed and satisfied, when she walked into the living room and put her hands on her hips. She scowled at him.

"Fine. You won fair and square, let's go, I'm not going to argue."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Though by 'won' I clearly mean 'forced.' And this isn't going to be a lovers' getaway, by the way. I'll be polite, but I don't have to be nice to you."

"There it is," he said with a wink, rising and taking her bag from her. This little predicament was exactly what he'd been gunning for all along. He'd set her up and now he was ready to knock her down.

"That wasn't arguing; that was laying ground rules," she insisted, following him out. "And I'll be staying in the guest room, _which_ I can _lock_ if I choose. No breaking it down. And no sneaking up on me in the shower or anything either," she groused as she locked her front door behind them and turned for the Corvette.

He was closing the trunk and eyeing her, enjoying the way she moved when she was fired up. She stomped to the car, avoiding his gaze and fixing her glare on the door handle.

In a second, he was right behind her, reaching over her shoulder and opening the passenger door. He didn't wait for her to get in before walking around to his side at a human pace, twirling, tossing and catching his keys.

Once they were both in the car, he addressed her demands. "Sookie, you're a terrible negotiator. What reason would I have to comply with these rules? I've already secured what I want; you have no leverage."

She sighed. "Eric. Will you please. Allow me to lock the door. If I want to."

They were speeding down Highway 71 and he turned to her, smiling devilishly. "You will be my guest. No unwelcome attention will be forced upon you."

_Ugh, not an answer. But at least it's something I can hold him to._

He could feel her apprehension through the bond; she was nervous but not repelled. _Curious. _And then it hit him._ She doesn't trust herself around me anymore…how very delicious._

Sookie had her arms crossed over herself and was staring out the window, fuming. Adorably. He almost told her so but decided to let her anger run its course uninterrupted. After all, he had what he came for.

They finished the drive in silence, Eric biding his time and Sookie lost in her thoughts. She was planning to constantly remind herself what made him so insufferable: the arrogance, the amorality, the selfishness, she could go on.

She didn't hate him. In fact there were times she started to really like him, but he would invariably invalidate any kindness with some obnoxious comment or gesture.

Truly, that was the worst part: forgetting what a jerk he was for a moment, only to be reminded in the next. And that was who Eric was. A magnificent bastard is still a bastard. She couldn't just keep having sex with the good parts.

Since he didn't slow down as he turned onto more residential streets the way most drivers would automatically, she wasn't shaken from her inner pep talk until they were pulling into the driveway.

She'd always been curious about what Eric's house would look like. It was a modest one-story house, grey and white. It was much newer than the surrounding houses, but a little smaller. This looked like an older, historic neighborhood, with big trees in the yards and canopying over the street. She guessed (correctly) that most of his neighbors were probably over fifty. It wouldn't be a neighborhood that got much traffic or activity.

When the car was parked in the immaculate garage, she opened her door and turned for the trunk. She didn't want him carrying her bag for her, the gentleman act was too convincing, and it messed with her judgment. He grabbed her wrist before she could step out of the car and pulled her gently back in.

"This doesn't have to be unpleasant, lover. I know it is not your ideal solution, but what I am doing _is_ in your best interests. You needn't be cold to prove anything; I'm not the enemy."

"I'm here against my will," she said quietly, not pulling her wrist back. She would never have admitted it, but it felt good to have him holding her wrist so tight.

"Do you know how exceptional it is for a vampire to bring a human to his primary resting place?" he mused, unmoved, "It is unheard of." The tone implied he was a little surprised himself.

He pulled her wrist farther across his body, bringing her closer. He was going to kiss her. It registered but she didn't pull away, just braced herself for the inevitable.

And then he didn't. He felt her acquiescence through the bond and that was enough.

He stopped at the crook of her elbow and bowed his head to run his nose over the pulse point, teasing both her and himself. The confined space of the car made the scent of her blood (and desire) especially potent and he licked lightly along her soft skin, finishing with a kiss that sent a stab of want between her legs and she made a very tiny gasping noise.

He lifted his head and leaned toward her so that he barely had to whisper. "You're not even mad at me, Sookie. Not really. You're mad at yourself. But don't be, I'm irresistible," he teased, smiling against her cheek. He kissed the side of her face softly and in a split-second he was out of the car, door closed, getting her bag from the trunk.

She rolled her eyes and got out. He had closed the garage and was holding the door to the house open for her.

She stepped into a small laundry room that led into the kitchen, which opened up into the living room; everything was white and modern and impossibly clean. She knew immediately that he didn't live in this part of the house—it was for show. It had all the right furniture and appliances, but it was too pristine, and there weren't any photos on the walls, just art. It felt sort of like a hotel suite.

"You don't live here."

"No, I don't," he said simply instead of being coy. He took her by the hand and led her farther back into the house, through the living room and toward what looked like a linen closet. "But you're welcome to spend time in this part of the house during the day."

He opened the closet door to a set of descending stairs, which she was by now expecting, and gestured for her to enter first.

This lower level was so completely different from the upper house; like stepping into another world.

This world had dark paneling and soft lighting, and the aesthetic was decidedly more old world. The linen closet stairs led into the main room, which was on the large side with high ceilings, the floors were dark African Walnut and the wraparound couch was deep crimson. One wall had a large television, laid flush, and the other walls held large inlaid bookcases with hundreds of books.

There was some space in front of the stairs but beyond that was a baby grand piano. That was a surprise.

"You play?"

"I do."

"What other instruments do you play?"

But he only laughed.

The back of the living room, behind her, held a long, heavy wood table, though she couldn't see what he'd need one for. It wasn't until she saw all the hallways leading out of the room that she realized this second, underground house stretched out much farther than the one above.

"Does all this go under one of your neighbor's houses too?"

"Both neighbors actually."

He pointed, "That hallway there leads back to the master bedroom," he said with a suggestive smirk, "there are two additional bedrooms that way, and back here," he turned her with a hand on the small of her back, "the laundry, powder room, and my study. You'll also find bathrooms in each of the bedrooms. You'll love the jacuzzi in the master bath..."

"I'll never see it, I'm sure," she tossed back, actually smiling a little. "What's that door?"

"The library," he answered gamely. He was enjoying watching her try to figure him out.

"The whole living room is a library."

He shrugged. "Perhaps so."

"Why the table? You don't eat."

"Sure I do," he said cryptically before setting her duffel on the table and taking her small hand in his. "Come, I want to show you one more thing."

He threaded his fingers in hers and pulled her past the powder and laundry rooms and through the back hallway. Holding his hand was new but felt very good. His long fingers fit well between hers.

They came to a door of opaque glass; there was light behind it. He turned to smile at her before opening it with a flourish.

She gasped and brought her hand to her mouth; she'd never expected this.

It was an indoor pool surrounded by white columns and lit with artificial evening light that glowed softly. She couldn't keep a "wow" from escaping under her breath.

"You like it?"

"This is amazing Eric, I would never have guessed..." He stepped behind her and wrapped both of their hands around her waist, pulling her into him. With his free hand he swept her hair over her shoulder and planted a brief kiss on the crook of her neck.

"My home is open to you during daylight hours. You may swim, read, watch television, 'snoop,' as I've heard it called, you may do as you wish."

"Like leave?"

"You may do whatever you like. You should know I can find you, and if you are not here when I rise, I certainly will. It's heated by the way."

"Thanks for offering, but I didn't bring a swimsuit and I wouldn't snoop in your private stuff," she said, distancing herself in both senses and unwinding their hands.

"A pool does not necessitate clothes," he informed her.

"_Eric!"_

He sauntered away from her nonchalantly, tucking his hands in his pockets. "What? Afraid I'll walk in on you? During the day?" he called back.

She shot him a wry smile, supposing he did have a point. And in any case it was only three days. From the look of the place it would be like a mini vacation. The thought made her realize just how tired she was from the long day. She blinked her eyes slowly and let them rest for a second.

When she opened them, he was walking toward her, unhurried. Her eyes swept over the room, this time picking up on the waterfall in the corner and the play of the light on the ceiling. This room felt surreal. He stopped beside her and de-pocketed one hand to place on the back of her neck, massaging just slightly.

In a gesture borne of fatigue and the effect it had on her vigilance, she tilted her forehead to lean on his chest and closed her eyes.

Never one to miss an opportunity, he scooped her up slowly and carried her back through the house. When they came to the first of the guest bedrooms, he shifted her in his arms, gracefully opened the door and set her on the bed. The relief of being off her feet washed over her and she stretched back onto the down comforter.

The lights were off in the bedroom and her curiosity about the rest of the house would wait until morning. All she knew was this bed was huge and it was comfortable. He disappeared to collect her bag and she pulled off her shoes from her horizontal position, letting them fall to the floor.

When he returned she was under the covers. He set her things on a chair and moved to sit on the edge of her bed. He reached under the sheets and pulled her sweatshirt up over her head, then unclasped her bra (in under half a second) and pulled it out from under the bedding as well.

She didn't tense up or argue; she was sleepy and it felt nice to be taken care of.

"Thanks..." she murmured and then yawned.

His hands slid back under the covers to sweep over her stomach and up to her breasts. It felt good, and intimate in a new way. She wanted to lie there lazily and let him touch her. She didn't want to move. Somewhere in the back of her mind a voice of warning popped up, but she brushed it away.

His hands drifted over her skin and down to her jeans, which were next to disappear. Now that she was almost naked under the sheets, she realized how plush they were; it was like being wrapped in a cloud. A cloud with hands that were stroking up and down her body.

Just as she started to feel her desire build enough to lure her from sleep, he brought his hands up out of the covers to her face and into her hair. Though she couldn't see, she felt his body very close. He kissed her, pulling her bottom lip ever so slightly into his mouth, and then he was gone and the door was closing behind him.

****

Sookie woke up disoriented. She'd been sleeping hard and it was pitch black, so that she had to squint to check her cell phone on the nightstand for the time. It was past one o'clock in the afternoon.

Using the phone's small light, she reached for the door to find that he'd left some dim lamps on for her in the hallway and main room. See shrugged off the momentary self-consciousness of being in her underwear; he was dead for the day and wouldn't be up for hours.

Turning on the lights in the main room, she took a second look around. Still here. Not a dream.

When she got back to the guest room she flicked the lamp on to see that it was a comfortable but sparse room of all dark wood and billowing white bedding. There was a mirrored wardrobe, which she didn't bother looking in, a nightstand and a simple dark wood chair.

She made her bed and dressed in her old jeans and a long-sleeved tight white t-shirt. Her stomach growled and she hoped he had something edible in this house; she wasn't entirely comfortable taking his car.

_Why not? He was perfectly comfortable taking you!_

She climbed the stairs and stepped out of the linen closet on the first floor, giggling a little to herself. Crawling out of the little secret passageway felt sorta fun, like she was returning from Narnia or something.

This was Eric's only kitchen, so if there was any chance of finding people food, this was it.

Her forage in the cabinets proved surprisingly fruitful. There were eggs, bacon, cheese and cold cuts in the refrigerator, fruit in a bowl on the counter and bread in the pantry along with a few different snacks.

_He must have done all this after I fell asleep. Huh._

He'd also stocked a cake plate on the table with pastries and left a note.

_______________

Good Morning Sleeping Beauty,

Make yourself at home. I'll see you after sunset, don't wander too far...

E

_________________

In no rush (this is vacation after all, right?), she made herself a big breakfast and took her time enjoying every bite. After she cleaned up, she looked around the upper house a bit. It had one small bedroom, the rather open living room, standard bathroom, kitchen and breakfast nook, and of course the laundry room. Everything was white, and everything was clean. The one surprise was the back porch, which was wide and whitewashed and had a swing on one end.

Next she explored the real house, which took much longer. Eric was orderly and the place was tidy, but not unlived-in like the upper part. Brushing her hand over the piano keys as she walked by, she tried to picture him playing and couldn't. She looked around and opened drawers (the bathroom cabinets were all stocked, go figure).

The study felt a little more private, more quintessentially Eric. It was the messiest part of the house, with a few stacks of paper shuffled around the desk, which she took care not to read. She did allow herself a quick once-over of the room..._Oh, all right, and maybe a quick peek in the top drawer. _

Inside, something out-of-place and more than a little familiar caught her eye. The thin cotton panties she'd been wearing in Dallas. Ass. Not that she was surprised. She debated pocketing them, but didn't want to imply that she'd been nosing around where she shouldn't be. It annoyed her that he had them, but she left it alone.

Then she came to the master bedroom. Was he really in there, dead and completely unprotected? For some reason she felt giddy at the prospect of seeing him so vulnerable.

_No._

To distract herself, she took to the library, paging through old classics and a few unexpected finds, like anatomy books and an extensive collection of maps. There were several erotica titles, also mostly classics, and more than a few historical biographies.

When she was through, she put everything away and headed for the main room again. Her eye wandered back to his bedroom door as she walked past it. Maybe she could just open it a tiny crack—just to see how he rested. _No, no, no._

Instead she directed her attention to the television, folding her legs under herself and settling into the lush couch. She tried clicking through the channels as a diversion. But even though he had literally hundreds and hundreds of options, her mind kept returning to the master bedroom.

When would she ever have the chance to see him like this? Without his badass face on and his guard up? She could _really_ look at him. And she could enjoy his beauty with impunity—without feeding his ego and having his smugness mar it.

Almost possessed, she set the remote down on the couch and crept toward the room. Eric's room. Her mind was buzzing but her movements were smooth as she reached the door and turned the knob. _I shouldn't be doing this._

But she was, and as the heavy door swung open silently, there he was before her. Her mouth dropped open and her face froze in awe. He was twisted in his sheets as though in a deep sleep and he looked so…paradoxically..._angelic_. The black sheets covered most of his body, but she could tell that he was probably naked.

The room was dimly lit by a huge chandelier and looked much like the rest of the house in style. His bed was a four-poster and enormous. Her heart was pounding and her stomach was in knots; it felt like he could wake up any minute, though she knew she had at least an hour or so. She went to check her watch but realized she'd never put one on. Her eyes darted to the nightstand searching for an alarm clock but of course, he didn't have one. What need would he have to set an alarm?

Tentatively, she walked toward his bed, turning her head to check out the room in a slow and indirect path to him.

She noticed a heavy armoire near the door, similar to the one in her room, but bigger, a credenza along the wall closest to the bed (which she was curious about), and two nightstands. She also noticed that the room smelled like him plus clean laundry, and breathed it in deeply.

Emboldened by the fact that he was out cold and she had carte blanche, she sat on the bed next to him and combed her fingers softly through his hair. God, he was so beautiful. A pang ran through her gut. It just wasn't fair that this perfect exterior belied a much darker soul.

She ran a finger along his perfect face, his strong jaw line—which was now stippled with scruff—his neck and sculpted shoulders.

Then, she couldn't help herself; she took the sheet by its edge and slowly drew it down, exposing more of him. He was lying mostly on his back with his hips turned to the side and his arms up, one tucked under his head. Each tug of the sheet uncovered another inch of his creamy, well-defined torso. She dropped the soft fabric at the valley of his hip joints, leaning back to drink him in.

Oh, if she could just bend down and tuck her body up against all that smooth, hard flesh, crook her face into his neck, press her lips against him. She had the overwhelming urge to taste him. It wasn't exactly a betrayal, he certainly wouldn't have minded, and no one need know anyway.

She exhaled steadily. Her hand reached out and traced over his ribs—bump, bump, bump...bump...bump. She let her fingernails scrape lightly over his stomach to his navel and grinned at the goosebumps that rose even now.

It was like opening a secret Christmas present...that didn't belong to her. And the best part was that she could explore him without feeding his fat ego. Without him watching and leering and saying something arrogant. She spread her palms across his chest and then downward, feeling the way he was built under his skin, letting her hands learn the landscape of him. She stroked his face and tucked his hair behind his ear, fondling his earlobe and brushing down his neck. He felt firm of course, but his skin was supple, velvety.

Her eyes fell to the bulge just below the edge of the sheet. She shouldn't. What time was it? She needed to get out of here. She touched it just softly through the sheet. He was definitely not wearing underwear. And he was at least partially erect. _Get a hold of yourself. Get the hell out of here!_

Her nerves steered her toward safety and she took one last look at him and righted his sheet. Soon he'd be awake and smirking. Her hair fell forward as she leaned down to kiss him softly on the cheek. And that's when she should have gotten up to leave and kept this little escapade a secret. That had been the hastily formulated plan.

But no, she just had to risk one last caress of his growing hardness, squeezing just a little and massaging her hand up his shaft. As soon as she'd released him, she felt his hand snap around her wrist, holding it right above his groin.

"Just couldn't wait, could you, lover?"

_Oh. Fuck._

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

Sookie's heart stopped for a full beat and her stomach lurched into her throat.

_Oh, this is bad. This is really, really bad._

Her attention snapped to his face just as he languidly opened his eyes. "I . . . I'm s—" she stammered, looking for all the world like a deer caught in headlights.

This was not how this was supposed to go. She only meant to steal a quick peek at him before he rose, not get herself into a whole mess of trouble.

"I . . . I just . . ." she tried again.

"Well, well . . . well," he purred through a smug grin, still holding her wrist tight. "Find what you were looking for, lover?"

Her pulse was hammering in her head and a hot blush crept up her face. Her mouth was still hanging open, but all she could do was stare at him mutely. She knew she needed to say something, explain herself, but she was paralyzed with embarrassment. He regarded her cooly and cocked his head, obviously enjoying her distress.

_Well isn't she especially lovely when she's mortified. _He let the question hang in the air for several long, glorious seconds and basked in his long-sought advantage. Her heartbeat was the only noise she made in her speechless panic.

With his free hand, he stroked lightly over her cheek and down her chin, which he lifted with one finger, snapping her mouth closed.

"You deny me when I'm awake, yet as soon as I'm unconscious I find myself ambushed?" he chided lightly.

Twisting her arm behind her back, he yanked her down on top of him and brought her ear to his lips. "You don't know what you've just gotten yourself into," he warned darkly. He brushed his cheek against hers like a cat and then raised her a few inches to let his eyes roam her face. He was enjoying every second.

"I'm sorry," she blurted out finally, "I—I shouldn't have come in here."

He wrapped his fingers around her shoulders and in a blur of motion pushed her down flat on her back so that he was propped up above her. "Oh, but you did," he countered wickedly.

"I didn't mea—mph!"

He slammed his hand over her mouth, cupping her face in his palm. With an elegant swivel of his wrist, he turned her head to the side and leaned down to whisper, "Don't bother trying to explain, my little captive. I don't care." And with that, his grin dove into her neck.

Sookie's instinctive gasp trailed into a moan when he only kissed her warm nook instead of breaking the skin.

The sound made him kiss and bite down on her skin harder, like arguing without words. She'd fascinated him from the moment he saw her, decisively and completely. It was beyond frustrating that she wasn't as sure. On the contrary, his certainty only grew with each encounter. _Want_ her, _take_ her . . . keep her?

His attentions were building into a frenzy; he knew she might push him away any minute.

_Yield to me._

Her body both tensed and surged against him.

_Yes . . ._

He ran his tongue from the bottom of her earlobe, upward along the arch of her ear, and over to her cheekbone where he paused to kiss her softly.

_Keep her._

The thought spurred his pace on again and he worked his lips down toward her neck, sometimes biting and sometimes sucking her skin into his hungry mouth. The dull pain of his teeth throbbed on her sensitive spots. It was unabashedly aggressive, and her skin turned pink where he devoured her. She felt like a laboratory rat held down at the mercy of a mad doctor.

It occurred to her that she only seemed to experience the pleasure of contact with Eric when she was somehow not in control. Thrown over a shoulder, pinned to a wall, bent over a lap. _Why is that? Because I wouldn't choose what he wants if he didn't compel me? Because with Eric I choose surrender, over and over? Because he knows overwhelming me distracts me from thinking about choices at all and weighing the pleasure of being with him against his swaggering bravado . . . _

Teeth claimed her neck and then the hollow of her throat. He held her in place with one hand over her mouth, the other pinning both wrists above her head.

_. . . his shameless opportunism . ._ .

His assault moved down her chest to the neckline of her shirt. When he'd turned the exposed skin there a warm pink, he scraped his teeth over her breasts through her shirt and thin bra.

. . . _his unscrupulous scheming _. . .

He grazed his teeth closer and closer to her nipples, which he nipped hard enough to make her squeal. Feeling the fluctuation in her emotions, he stopped and pulled away.

"Don't fight me, Sookie," he ordered soberly. Releasing her mouth to smooth his hand down the side of her body; he reveled in the shape that was uniquely _her_. His eyes shamelessly followed his hand, completely unselfconscious in his appreciation of her form. His eyes flicked back up to hers. "You know how this ends," he added with a suggestive half-smile.

Before she could argue, he was on her again, pinning her body beneath his and kissing her hard. His assault was growing increasingly savage, reminding her how dangerous he actually was. He was being rougher than he'd been with her before and didn't let her breathe until he could tell she truly needed it.

When he finally paused, she was panting.

"Eric . . ."

"Shut up," he cut off quickly and kissed her again. Taking her t-shirt by the collar, he ripped downward in one fell swoop, leaving behind a tear that exposed her breasts to him. His ministrations on them danced on the cusp between satisfyingly rough and almost painful.

Her fear was rising, tinged not only by her own lust but by his need, which pierced her through the bond. His body was immovable against hers, and she couldn't help but rub herself against it, to feel more of him. Even through her jeans, she felt his cock, heavy on her leg and she inched herself slightly underneath him so that it was touching the apex of her thighs.

He wrapped his left arm around her and, with his other hand, unfastened her jeans. They were old and worn and he pushed his hand inside them easily. She was unconsciously bucking against nothing. He squeezed her pussy and her hips pushed up into him and off the bed. He constricted around her ribcage, restraining her against himself, and rubbed her through her panties in rough circles.

"Wait—" she said between moans, "I—ah!"

But he only got harsher, manhandling her and molesting her pussy cruelly. She could really tell how much stronger he was and felt like a ragdoll in comparison.

Then in a bolt of alarm, she realized that, for the first time, she didn't have the failsafe of uninviting him. She was in his house, and he had every advantage. What if he saw their constant battles as an intentional tease? What if she'd pushed him past patience? _This could get bad so fast._ Adrenaline flooded her bloodstream.

"Eric, wait!"

But he'd had enough. It was simple: her desire for him was strong enough to override anything else. And he could prove it. In a blur, he was off of her and standing. Thinking he was complying with her protest, her eyes flashed up at him in surprise and a pang of regret ran through her body. But he was remarkably calm.

"Take off your clothes."

Her expression twisted into one of confusion.

Catching her breath, she tried to reason, "Eric, maybe—"

"Shut your mouth. Take off your clothes," he commanded evenly and walked away from the bed toward the credenza. She stared at him, taken aback, but he didn't turn around, just opened a drawer and took out what he needed.

He wasn't forcing her or overpowering her, wasn't manipulating her. He was calling her bluff. _No one's making you do anything you don't already want to do. You could leave. But you won't._

It was the first time he'd made his point not with a deluge of sensation, but the total absence of it. _ Go ahead, make a decision now with no distraction to blame it on. We both know it will be the same._

He sauntered back to her and beckoned her to the edge of the bed with a gesture.

For a moment she hesitated. He raised an eyebrow in her direction, and she slowly crept to him, finally sitting on her knees.

"Good girl," he smirked. He wrapped his hand around her throat gingerly and stroked her skin with his thumb. "You know . . . and I know . . . that you very much want to be here. I'm tiring of your obstinance." He massaged her neck, gripping and releasing it. He grasped her at the nape, then worked his hand forward.

"You like what I do to you . . ." he continued. Sookie closed her eyes and let her head drift to the side. "You like it so much, that every time you see me, you hope—in your gut—that it will lead to exactly this."

He ran his thumb over her lips for emphasis. She was lost in the feel of his hands on her, and he tightened his grip around her neck. "Don't you?" he growled.

Sookie nodded. What was the sense in fighting? It was true; she wanted him.

His fingers softened and began soothing her again. "And when you don't see me . . . you hope you will."

She nodded again.

"Good. Now do as I say."

Looking down at her ripped clothes, she stopped thinking and gave in. He'd made it so easy to. Her muscles unclenched and she let his presence wash over her. All she wanted was to let him take over again.

As she shrugged out of the now huge hole in her shirt, he watched her. A rush of power filled him as she finished sliding her jeans down her tanned legs. She touched the sides of her underwear and then looked up at him.

She noticed for the first time that he was holding a coil of red rope, and he was staring back at her with conviction.

"Those too."

She slipped them off.

When she was fully exposed, he pulled her flush against his chest by the upper arm. Both her palms sought him out, and she placed small, reverent kisses all over his chest. She was letting him consume her, not because it was happening too fast and she was caught up in lust, but because she wanted to. He felt a new emotion blossom in her and he loved it. She wanted to yield. She wanted him. And she understood it.

He let her finish worshiping his torso, then put her back into position an arms length away.

First, he took her hands and placed them together in front of her. He wound the rope deftly around her slender wrists several times, securing them in place, then pulled them above her head. Her wrists were anchored to the headboard and then he attended to her ankles.

Using the same method, he fastened them to the bottom two bedposts, rendering her helpless and open in his bed. Seeing her this way was ultimately gratifying; he'd wanted this for a very long time. Finally she was his completely, held immobile in his bed, like a sacrifice. He could explore her at his own pace, unrushed by her incessant, fickle conscience. He could savor her. But most importantly, he could tease her now the way she'd been teasing him for weeks. It wasn't a punishment, exactly, but turnabout was fair play. Not that he was at all interested in fair play.

He kneeled above her, placing his knees on either side of one bound leg. He began tracing his fingers along her body. Up the thigh he was straddling and over her belly. Leaning forward to rest his weight on one hand, he gently fondled her breasts, cupping them, tickling them slowly, glancing between her curves and her face to enjoy her reactions.

His hand fluttered to her cheek. In this moment, he found her so beautiful. His blunt fingernails traced down her helpless form, paying close attention to the microexpressions that crossed her face as he touched her. He'd never noticed how impossibly soft the sides of her breasts were, how delicate her ribcage felt in his hands. His fingers mapped her tapered waist and the hollow of her abdomen where her hips flared. She sucked in when he traversed below her navel and over her parted lips.

"This is all mine. I will memorize every inch of you."

By now she was desperate for him as he ghosted his hand up and down the crevice between her spread legs. Thrusting up into his hand, she moaned in response, trying to get traction, but the harder she pushed up into him, the lighter his touch became.

"Patience, my dear . . . after all, you don't really have a choice."

Sookie wailed in frustration. Eric only chuckled at her torment.

He slid a single finger inside her and she cried out, desperate for more. His moistened finger slipped out of her and up to her nub, circling it much too lightly.

But she knew better than to complain again, it would only prolong her agony. It was even harder not to whine when his hand left her as he stood again and walked to the credenza. When he returned, her lust flipped into anxiety.

"Is that a whip?" she asked, still squirming even in her worried state.

"Yes."

"Are—are you going to hurt me?"

"Only a little."

He also had a blindfold, which he tied around her eyes tight enough that she felt the pressure on her eyelids. Her face twisted into a grimace, and her eyes pinched shut beneath their cover.

_Oh, she's worried_ . . . _I love it._

He smiled and stroked her belly until she relaxed her face a little. She felt him part her lips and hold them open, not touching her between them, just exposing her to the cool air. She waited to feel the sting, but instead he released her and stepped back.

She heard a low, sinister laugh and then a gentle flick on her thigh.

_That's it?_

She was surprised he could control his strength with so much precision. The whip came down again, this time on the other thigh. It wasn't painful; it felt like being thumped.

She whooshed out a lungful of air in relief. He smirked at her and flicked the whip down again, this time just on the outside of her labia.

"It doesn't really hurt," she noted aloud, almost innocently.

"That's because," he explained, toying with the whip and then hitting her again, "I'm being very . . . _very_ . . .nice to you."

Her mouth opened slightly, as she adjusted and began to enjoy the sensation.

"But I don't have to be," he pointed out as he smacked two quick, sharp blows to her other outer lip and the soft skin next to her entrance.

"Ah! Ssssshit." She hissed with the sting of it. She hadn't intended to complain, thinking the less resistance she put up, the quicker he would let her come. But that hurt!

"I don't like that," she protested.

"Sure you do." He walked toward her and barely brushed his fingers up her folds so both could feel how wet she was. She gasped quietly in genuine surprise and he smirked in utter lack of it.

This would not be the last time she found herself in this position. And he would certainly push her farther, but not tonight.

The next smacks of the whip were soft again. They landed on her thighs, the exposed part of her ass, and very strategically between her legs. Her body wanted to twist and writhe, but she held still, only moving her hips incrementally in an attempt to feel the contact on her clit. The possibility of what it might feel like scared her a little.

When it finally did connect, she shrieked. She'd been so focused on that part of her body, willing every blow to hit her there, that when it finally did, the pleasure was amplified. He hit it a few more times—his aim was perfect—and each time, she cried and bucked up.

He dropped the whip to his side and walked the few steps to her, reaching out and rubbing her the way she'd been craving. Through the bond, he could tell she was close. His touch on her was firm and purposeful, and in moments, she was hurtling toward release.

"Ahhh!" She screamed as the sharp pleasure of release took over her consciousness. She rode his fingers, and each stroke gave her exactly what she needed. Two fingers slid in to her, causing the last moments of her orgasm to feel deep and satisfying.

As she finished and all her muscles liquefied, she felt him kiss her face softly. The blindfold loosened and fell away as her eyes readjusted to the light. Happiness filled her at seeing his face again.

He left his hand perfectly still between her legs as he kissed her cheek and then her lips. Their eyes reconnected and he saw more tenderness from her than had been there before. It pained him to realize how much he wanted her.

He moved to untie her wrists. Until that second, she hadn't felt the soreness in them, but it felt wonderful to have them freed. With another shift, he was between her legs. He began lapping at her slowly, avoiding her clit and focusing on her entrance.

"Mmmm . . . I . . . Eric, I just . . ."

He hummed into her folds, enjoying her. "Don't worry, lover, I'll let you simmer for now," and he returned to licking her, so slow and wide that it didn't lead her up toward a climax; it simply felt good, and she relaxed into the intimacy of it.

When he'd had his fill, he sat up and untied her ankles. Unexpectedly, she reached for him and pushed him down gently, crawling into his arms and burying her face in his chest. It was unmistakably . . . loving. Her arms wrapped tight around him, as if she couldn't get enough.

He rolled them both, so he was on top of her. "You're my lover," he said, staring into her face. It wasn't a question.

"Yes."

"You will come to my bed—willingly. And when you are not in my bed, you will still be my lover."

"Yes."

He smiled very broadly and rubbed his body along hers. "And I am . . ."

She smiled back, "and you are my _lover_ too." She playfully emphasized the antiquated word.

"Say it again," he said seriously.

"You're my lover, Eric."

And with that, he plunged into her with a satisfying crash. She wouldn't have thought she was ready again, but feeling him impale her was its own special addiction and rendered her instantly voracious.

"Again."

"You are mine," she whispered as she sought out more of him with abandon.

He growled and thrust into her again, filling her and making her head roll back. He always felt so good inside her. Like satisfying a deep ache she didn't know she had. Every time. She was grinding up against him, but he wrapped one arm under her and controlled her hips exactly as he wanted them.

Holding her close, he slammed into her again and again, drowning himself in her. He took one of her hands and brought it down to her clit, which she started rubbing as he held her in place and fucked into her hard.

He began to come, and she was right behind him. He was growling like an animal as he pumped two pulses into her and pulled out just as he fell over the edge, pressing the tip of himself into her nub with her fingers moving around him and slathering her with the last of his release.

Her hand suddenly moved easier over her now slick folds. Tension coiled in her stomach and then exploded outward as she lost control. The thought of his cool fluid guiding her movements was an unexpected trigger for her, and the ripples of her pleasure ebbed to suddenly surge again with a jolt. Her peak sustained itself much longer than usual and as she rode it out, Eric watched her, transfixed. He'd never seen anything more arousing.

He idly brought his middle finger to her entrance and very slowly traced the outside, dipping in only by a fingertip. The flutter of his hand drew her pleasure out and she growled when it finally released her. As her hand slowed, so did the waves of satisfaction rolling through her until she was coming down in rough shudders, still spreading him into her folds weakly.

When her fingers came to a stop, he took her by the wrist and pulled her over his chest to lie on top of him. As she settled, he began stroking her back and combing his fingers through her hair.

"Three days is far too brief, I think I shall keep you here indefinitely," he mused lightly.

"Hey now," she smiled sluggishly into his downy chest hair, "don't go pushing your luck."

"Luck?" he repeated, a little less amused. "I meant what I said about—"

"I know," she cut him off with an understanding look, "I know . . . just . . . one step at a time."

"Very well," he said, unwinding again, and closing his eyes. "Why you prolong the inevitable, I will never know. But we can . . .do it your way."

She kissed his chest. "Thank you," she said sincerely.

"And if you become unreasonable, I have three hundred more feet of rope."

A long pause fell easily over them.

"Eric?"

"Hm?" he purred without opening his eyes.

"Did you hire someone to leave that heart on my porch?"

She rose and fell quick and soft as he chuckled. He brushed his hand through her hair again.

"No, lover," he assured her. "I haven't resorted to emotional blackmail."

She sighed. The bond confirmed he was telling the truth.

"Would have been a good idea though."

The End.

* * *

That's it guys! I'm not saying I wouldn't consider writing a sequel, but I had to end this thing somewhere. Many thanks, grateful bows, and my firstborn child to Young Boho who for serious patted me on the head and fixed all the things I originally hated about this chapter. On a related note, I attempted (wait for it) a fan video. To accompany this story, kind of. It's very rough and, okay, occasionally cringe-worthy, but I'd never done anything on iMovie before and was learning as I went! In any case, it's in my profile or you can go to youtube and add: /watch?v=Lj-sDXxRz3M


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